


Embers in a Wounded Heart

by RealityBreakGirl



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jean Havoc is a good friend okay?, Team Mustang - Freeform, Team as Family, and i love him, and the royai is a sort of background thing, poor boy deserves a raise after this, so don't expect romance in this honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25842304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RealityBreakGirl/pseuds/RealityBreakGirl
Summary: Post-PD. A drive to look for more of Berthold Hawkeye’s research sends Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye, and Jean Havoc back to Hawkeye’s childhood home. But although the years have faded the wounds of Hawkeye’s heart, the embers still exist. This trip, ordered by Mustang, threatens to flame them back to life. With Hawkeye and Mustang at odds with each other, and an unknown but heavy history hanging overhead, Havoc isn’t sure what this research mission will mean to the future of his commanding officers.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 25
Kudos: 65
Collections: FMA Big Bang 2020





	1. Prologue

**Author:** RealityBreakGirl/aquietlearningcorner/scentedbygunpowder  
 **Word Count:** 648  
 **Prompt:** FMA Big Bang 2020  
 **Characters:** Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang, Jean Havoc  
 **Pairing:** Royai  
 **Genre:** Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family  
 **Chapter:** Prologue of 5

* * *

**Prologue**

Mustang stared across his desk, his hands folding in front of his face as he considered his captain across from him. No one could read her as well as he could. The subtle posture changes, the small muscle movements, the way her eyes moved ever so slightly, even without taking her gaze away from her target--it was all an open book for him to read. And even though she was an ever-changing book, she was still one that he could make predictions about. Unfortunately, these predictions seemed to be going how he had anticipated.

There was the slightest tensing of her jaw, her lips pursing for a moment, and a slight inhalation of a breath, too small to be called anything but breath, but too sharp to be a regular breath. Her eyes moved the slightest bit, as if considering possibilities, and her posture straightened the slightest bit. Even here, in the privacy of his own office, with only the two of them present, she kept her composure.

“General, sir, might I ask why?” she said, her voice absolutely composed.

That in itself was telling. She was controlling herself absolutely and that meant that she was feeling emotions she’d rather not feel.

Mustang took in a breath of his own and let it out in a sigh. “Captain—Hawkeye. You know as well as I do that the political atmosphere is still unstable. More and more anarchist, anti-military, and resistance groups are popping up. They’re going to great lengths to try to gain some power and control. And regardless if I understand the basic desires they have or not, right now we’ve got to keep this country together. And that means that we’ve got to step up our game too.”

She kept herself ramrod straight, but a snap of fire sparked in her eyes. “Are you suggesting—”

“I know,” he said, holding up a hand to stop her, and stood up to go around his desk, more towards her. “But nothing dramatic. Just something to give me a bump of control or power.”

Her eyes were snapping now and her muscles were taut. He could see precision in the turn she executed to face him. “If you really want that, then you know what you could do.” There was harshness and challenge in her words, and judgement in her eyes.

He reached out to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “No,” he said firmly. “I will never do that to you. I told you that after we figured it out. I will not cross that line.”

She made no move to reciprocate his softness, but something her eyes eased and he saw her jaw loosen a fraction of a bit, as her shoulders did. Still, her lips flattened themselves out more and it was clear that she was still very unhappy about his idea.

“Very well,” was all she said, “If this is what you’re set on. When should I book the tickets?”

“If you can, for the day after tomorrow. And book three.”

Now that did give her pause. “Three?” she questioned.

Mustang nodded. “You, me, and Havoc. With the way things are, another pair of eyes on the outside isn’t going to hurt.”

Hawkeye held his gaze for a moment longer, then gave him a nod. He let go of her shoulders and she turned, swiftly making her way out of his office. She was still unhappy, and still tense, but there was little to be done about it.

Mustang let out a sigh of his own and turned back to the notes scattered on his desk. His fingers fell to a map and brushed over it. Awrout. The day after tomorrow they’d be heading back there for what was for Roy, the first time in years. He just hoped that Riza Hawkeye was up for a trip back to her childhood home.


	2. Part I

**Author:** RealityBreakGirl/aquietlearningcorner/scentedbygunpowder  
 **Word Count:** 13,706  
 **Prompt:** FMA Big Bang 2020  
 **Characters:** Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang, Jean Havoc  
 **Pairing:** Royai  
 **Genre:** Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family  
 **Chapter:** Part I of 5

* * *

**Part I**

Jean Havoc was definitely not procrastinating on his work. No matter what anyone in the room thought, that definitely wasn’t what he was doing. No, he was just reevaluating his approach to said work, and you couldn’t do that and work on the work at the same time, right? Or, at least, that was the excuse he was going with. It probably wouldn’t hold up for Hawkeye, but he was willing to try it. Although, trying for an excuse with Hawkeye might not be the best idea right now. Something had been up with Hawkeye and Mustang lately. Havoc leaned back in his chair and chewed thoughtfully on his pencil. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but he could tell that something was definitely up. It was “in the air” as his Ma would say.

If there was one thing that Havoc knew well, it was people. Sure, his his academic skills weren’t that good, and he didn’t consider himself smart, but ever since he was a young boy he had been people watching. It had started in his family’s store, when his Ma would take him with her when she needed to tend to a customer. It had continued when his Pa had considered him old enough to work. It had served him well, giving him all sorts of people to watch and interact with, and Havoc had taken to it like a duck to water. He knew people, and he knew the people closest to him the best.

(Of course, that had taken a bit of a blow with the whole Solaris/Lust event and its aftermath. But he was a bit mollified in the knowledge that she had literally been created to fool men—and was likely a psychopath too.)

Havoc counted his team amongst the people that he knew best. Sure, his family was up there first, simply because when you grew up with someone, you knew them. But his team was also very important to him, and he spent time learning them too. When he regained the use of his legs and rejoined the team, there had been a little bit of a learning curve, as some things had changed. He expected it, after their experiences. They had been through a lot, and that changed a person. Even with that, though, the basics of how his team worked were still the same.

It was why he knew that something was up.

Mustang had been on edge all week, ever since that briefing about some of the rogue terror groups that were popping up. He was contemplating something big, Havoc guessed, but also strangely enough, something personal. Roy had spent a lot of time in his inner office, staying there most of the day. He did that more when he was thinking about something important or big. His lackadaisical attitude had fallen away, too. There were actually piles of paperwork coming out of his office not just going in. When he was out of his inner office, his brow had been furrowed more often than not, and his hands had been in his pockets, almost as if reassuring himself that his gloves were there. His eyes had almost always stayed near to Hawkeye, too. Those were all telling signs that whatever he was thinking about, it was weighing heavily on him, and that it was personal.

Even though it was personal, Hawkeye didn’t seem to know what it was about. The looks she kept giving Mustang, the way she hovered a bit, the stiffness in her when he didn’t respond to her efforts, it was obvious, at least to Havoc, that she had no idea what was going on in Mustang’s mind. That was unusual, as she generally knew everything that Mustang was contemplating. That meant that Havoc’s usual approach of “take care the of the menial things and let Hawkeye take care of Mustang” was a little bit askew this time around.

This morning had promised to start off with little difference. Hawkeye had all of the curtains open and all of the lights on, something she did occasionally now. There had been three cups of coffee sitting on Fuery’s desk, the younger man already hunched over a radio. Falman’s brow had been creased as he stared at that small carved bear that sat on his desk while he drank his coffee, quieter than normal. Breda had seemed normal enough, at least, but he hadn’t eaten much of his sandwich. The two of them had exchanged looks, knowing that their teammates were not at their best today. But at least everyone had settled down to get through their morning work.

That is, until Mustang had waltzed in more confidently than he had in days, glanced at Hawkeye, and then had gone straight to his office. It hadn’t been a half-hour later that he had called Hawkeye in. She had gone, somehow seeming hurried even with her measured steps.

That’s where Havoc’s eyes rested now, staring at that door. He wondered what was going on behind it. Certainly, Mustang and Hawkeye had been growing even closer since the Promised Day, but there was something about the way that Mustang had been looking at Hawkeye this past week. It was something that wasn’t going to be solved by one of those frustratingly silent conversations they had with just their eyes, he was sure. But what was going on? And why didn’t Hawkeye know what Mustang had been thinking about?

“Hey—are you going to do your work, or are you just gonna keep staring at that door like you’re waiting for Miss Amestris to come out of it?” Breda’s voice broke through Havoc’s watch, and honestly, he had no idea how long he had been staring at that inner office’s door.

Still, that didn’t mean that Havoc was going to take the comment laying down, and he pulled a face at Breda. “Ah, come on man. Let a guy take a break! Besides,” his hands had been rubbing at his legs, he just now realized, “I need the break. My legs are aching a bit.”

The red head frowned a bit, his eyes going down to where Havoc’s hands were rubbing his thighs, and Havoc gave him a lopsided smile, trying to get him not to worry. The stone may have healed the nerve connection, but that wasn’t all that went into getting his legs restored, after all. Physical therapy had been hard and long work, and he still didn’t have all of his muscle mass back. Havoc was suspicious, too, that even with the philosopher’s stone, things couldn’t be completely restored. He had no proof, of course, but the aches in his legs weren’t just from physical therapy, that much he knew.

Breda eyed him for a moment longer, then turned away to go back to his work. “Yeah, yeah, just don’t take too long. The Hawk won’t let you get away with that excuse too much.”

Havoc grinned and waved him off. That was Breda’s way of expressing his concern for him and he knew it. It appeared that neither Falman or Fuery cared to get in on this conversation, and so Havoc went back to looking at the door while his hands rubbed at his legs.

“Whaddya think is going on in there?” Havoc asked, looking back at the door again.

“Something that’s none of our business,” Breda said with a grunt. Havoc glanced at him.

“What, you’re not the least bit curious?” Havoc pressed to the room at large. “Fuery, you’ve got your ear to the ground. Have you heard anything?”

“Nothing,” was the man’s one-word reply, and if Havoc hadn’t seen the bags under his eyes and the multiple cups of coffee on his desk, he would have thought the younger man was just lost in his work. Maybe he could get the conversation going and shake him out of his thoughts a bit.

“Nothing?” he said. “Tsk, and here I thought you had the inside scoop, Fuery.” Fuery just grunted, and Havoc backed off for the moment. “What about you, Falman? Any ideas?”

Falman glanced up from that carved bear, and tilted his head back a bit, thinking. “There have been some troop movements lately towards the northeastern part of Amestris. With the ongoing reconstruction of Ishval and the Xingese rail line, it could be that the General is anticipating something coming.”

Havoc could see both Breda and Fuery tense a bit at that, Fuery’s hands tightening for a moment, and Breda unconsciously touching his elbow. Havoc shut that line of thinking down as quickly as he could, before the memories of the front could get a good grip on either of his teammates.

“Nah, that’s not it. Have you seen the way he’s been looking at Hawkeye? There’s something personal—"

The door opened suddenly, precisely swinging on its hinges, and then closed nearly as fast and with just as much precision, startling Havoc out of what he was going to say. It wasn’t just him, he noted, but everyone, although the other three quickly went back to looking at their work, clearly not wanting to be caught. Havoc didn’t bother, either because he had no sense of self-preservation, or because he was far too curious for his own good, and just watched Hawkeye.

She was doing things that no one but her could do. No one could accuse her of slamming the door, but somehow that emotion came across as she shut it behind her. Havoc was always amazed at how Hawkeye could be so absolutely in control, and yet still managed to come across as insubordinate or absolutely clear on how she was feeling. He had yet to figure out how she managed to do that, and at this point, he doubted that he’d ever know.

It was a mystery, although one he didn’t have time for as Hawkeye walked in precise steps across the room to their desks. She didn’t spare any of them a glance as she got to her desk. She just reached for the telephone that was currently taking up space on her desk, opened up a drawer to pull out a pad of paper and a pencil, and sat them down precisely while she dialed a number. Every movement she made was precise and tightly controlled, almost more than Havoc had ever seen before. She didn’t sit down, still stiff and straight, but instead stayed standing. Nothing of her was relaxed in the slightest. It was clear, at least to Havoc, that whatever Mustang had said to her in there, it had made her unbearably angry.

None of the others were daring to pay direct attention, and he frowned, realizing that he was about to take his life in his hands with this question but did it anyway. “Everything okay there, Hawkeye?” he asked her, trying to keep his tone mild.

She paused in her controlled movements long enough to spare him a sharp glance. “Pack a bag,” she told him, her tone clipped and her speech not wasting any words. “Make it for a week. You, the general, and I are taking a trip.”

He looked at her in surprise and sat up straighter in his chair. The pencil he had between his teeth fell and his hands stilled their massaging of his legs. “We’re what?” he asked, blinking rapidly, trying to think of anything that might have crossed their desks that would warrant the three of them going somewhere and would anger Hawkeye this much. His mind came up blank. “Where? Why?”

She ignored his question, focusing again on dialing the phone and Havoc realized he wasn’t going to get any answers from her until after she had finished her call and fell silent, listening instead. As she talked to the person on the other end of the line, Havoc took it in, hoping for answers.

“Yes. I need three tickets to Awrout,” Her tone was polite, but clipped. “As soon as possible. Yes, that will be fine. Put them under the name Captain Riza Hawkeye. Yes. A General Mustang or Lieutenant Havoc could pick them up as well. Yes. Thank you.” She hung up before the person on the other line could finish saying “you’re welcome.”

That conversation didn’t help Havoc too much. It answered some basic questions of where they were going and when, but it didn’t clear up the why question at all. Actually, he was pretty sure that even if he had heard the other end of the phone call, he still wouldn’t know. None of his questions had really been answered, and from the way she was standing, Hawkeye wasn’t in a sharing mood. He’d have to bite the bullet and ask her himself. “Hey—Hawkeye. What’s in Awrout? I’ve never even heard of it.”

“It’s a small town between Central and East City,” Falman supplied out of nowhere, apparently focusing back on the world around him with this unexpected twist to their day. “It’s known for very little. The area around it tends to be mostly farming country, so it stocks a wide variety of crops. It was founded in—”

“Yes, thank you, that’s enough,” Hawkeye cut him off and Havoc eyed her. She wasn’t looking at any of them, still, obviously, tightly controlled. She was straightening up her desk, even though there was nothing to really straighten on it. It was clearly more of an energy wasting habit if anything. “We leave tomorrow morning at 8am sharp. Do not be late to the station.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, still looking at her in a bit of confusion. She still hadn’t answered his questions, and it didn’t appear that she was going to. He watched as she made her way back to the general’s door, as stiff as she had been when she came out of it originally, practically textbook in her movements. He hesitated for a moment, and then decided to try one more time. “Sir? What are we going to Awrout for?”

She was at the door to the general’s inner office, but she paused, her posture very stiff and straight. She didn’t look back at him, but somehow something about her seemed even stiffer than before. For a moment, he thought that she either wasn’t going to answer him, or she was about to explode. He could feel the rest of the men tensing up behind him, as if readying themselves to run.

“The general wants to do some research.”

The words were very clipped, and delivered in a very even tone, which told Havoc a lot about her state of mind right now and how she felt about that research. She opened the door in that precise way again and let it close behind her, again, not slamming, but very much letting all of them know that this conversation was closed. Whatever this research was, she did not approve of it and she was very upset about it—that was blatantly clear.

The rest of the team had decided to stop pretending that they were doing their work, and instead stare at the door as well. It was clear to Havoc that they were each a bit concerned about this in their own way.

“Looks like that’s gonna be a fun trip,” Breda finally said, staring at the door, just like the rest of them.

“I wonder what kind of research the general could be looking for there,” Fuery said, caution and curiosity both in his tone, although he didn’t stare at the door for long, quickly going back to his radios.

“If they didn’t tell us, it’s probably none of our business.” Falman said, being the first to return to his actual work. Havoc noted that his shoulders hunched a little, as if he was trying to physically keep his head down and out of this matter.

“Well, whatever it is,” Havoc said, bending down to get the pencil he had dropped from his mouth earlier, “let’s just hope I don’t get dragged into anything big,” He stood up, taking his eyes from the door. Whatever was going on, he’d find out later, it seemed. “I’m gonna go take a smoke break.” He stood and stretched, the movement feeling good to his legs, and then reached down to pet Hayate.

“Those things’ll kill you,” Breda warned him, watching him carefully.

“What? The cigarettes or the dog?” Havoc quipped with a grin.

“Both.” Breda replied, just as flatly.

Havoc laughed, reaching in his drawer for his pack of cigarettes. “Yeah, well, I’ll take my chances. I need to move some. I’ll be outside.”

He waved jauntily to them all over his shoulder as he opened the doors to the office and headed down the hallway. He had quite a bit to think about as he walked, mindlessly preparing his cigarette as he did. Whatever Mustang and Hawkeye were planning, it was obviously something that they both knew about, but that he didn’t. Which, honestly, with the two of them, covered a lot of ground.

They had history together. Havoc didn’t quite know all of what it was, but he had no doubt that whatever this was, it tied into that history. It weighed heavily on Mustang, and it upset Hawkeye to a degree he had never seen. It was something more than professional but something that was also personal. He was sure that he was being brought along simply as another pair of eyes and he had to wonder just what they would need that for. Unless this research was hidden or forbidden, then he saw no need for him to go along. Unless they needed him because it was personal. He could be there simply as a balance, to ensure that they didn’t get lost in whatever this was. Like how when he was a child and his brothers and sisters were in a fuss, they wouldn’t fuss nearly as much in front of a guest. Maybe he was taking the role of “guest” for them in this, to keep them from going too far.

Havoc was outside fairly quickly and found himself a nice little spot to take his smoke break. He leaned on a wall and lit up his cigarette, looking up at the sky. As he did so, he couldn’t help but wonder what the next day was going to be like. Would Mustang still be weighed down? Would Hawkeye still be intensely upset?

Was he going to be caught in the middle?

He really, really, really hoped not.

Havoc blew out a stream of smoke and watched it dissipate into the sky. He supposed he’d just have to wait until tomorrow to find out.

If there was one thing that Havoc knew in this world, it was not to tick off an already upset Hawkeye. Her mood had not improved as she spent the rest of the day readying the office for the coming week. Mustang had come out of his office after the conversation the two of them had and, although there was a sort of regret in his eyes when he looked at Hawkeye, he had remained resolute in his decision. Havoc had considered asking more about the nature of the trip, but one look at his commanding officers had him deciding it was better to keep his mouth shut. It had seemed to be the order of the day, and everyone had cleared out as soon as the workday was over, Hawkeye included. She had been out the door as soon as the clock hit quitting time, not even waiting on Mustang. That did not bode well for the trip, and, from the looks of sympathy the rest of the team gave him (and a peppy “Good luck, sir!” from Fuery that Havoc did not need to remind him of how awkward this could be) the rest of the team knew it too.

Rocking the boat did not seem like a good idea to Havoc. The best way to avoid that, he figured, was to be on time and on top of his duties. So, in the morning, he had made sure he had plenty of time to get packed and be on his way. A decent breakfast—well for a bachelor—and a quick packing job later, and he was on his way. The Hawk hadn’t said anything about what type of clothes to wear or pack, so he slid his uniform on and slung his rucksack over his shoulder, heading out the door towards the train station. It sounded like they were heading towards farm country, so something sturdy like his uniform was probably best anyway.

He made good time and arrived at the station at seven-thirty. It was thirty minutes early, but Havoc knew it was always best to be early when trains were leaving. Besides, he was sure that Hawkeye would appreciate it. He honestly half hoped to see Mustang and Hawkeye standing together, looking tired, but alert. If they were tired and together then it meant that they had probably talked throughout the night and worked things out. It had happened before. Hawkeye wasn’t usually so upset, but Havoc held out hope for a positive solution anyway.

Not many people were at the station this early, so it didn’t take him long to find his two superior officers. They were standing together, but they did not look as if they had patched things up. Havoc wasn’t sure, but it looked as if they may have gotten worse.

Mustang was standing there in his uniform sleepily yawning. An expensive looking suitcase at his feet, clearly full. Mentally, Havoc rolled his eyes. Mustang was a little too attached to some of his high society things, in his opinion. They were nice, but there was a time and place, and Havoc got the feeling this wasn’t it.

Beside him Hawkeye stood, also in uniform, her eyes already alert. A much more modest carpetbag sat at her feet. It was a little bit worn and looked to have been patched or fixed a time or two but was still perfectly sound. Somehow, Havoc thought that fit with her personality. Riza Hawkeye was the type of woman to use something until if fell apart, then fix it up and keep using it.

(Was it his imagination, or was Mustang eyeing her bag a bit distastefully?)

But although the two were standing together, they were clearly not over yesterday’s argument. Hawkeye stood dutifully next to Mustang, but she looked the very model of a proper soldier. She normally did, but this could have been for a training film. Mustang, too, stood a little stiffer than normal. He seemed irritated instead of having his usual casual arrogance around him. Neither were talking to the other and Havoc had the sense that this was going to a very difficult trip. Maybe he should have called Fuery up and asked him for good luck again.

Observations would do little, though, and Havoc swallowed his discomfort and lightly jogged up to them. It was up to him to try to keep things smoothed over. He had no idea how he was going to do it, but it was clear they weren’t going to deal with this themselves.

“Hey Boss, Hawkeye,” he greeted them as he came up.

“Havoc,” Mustang half muttered, looking not at him or Hawkeye, but around at the area.

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” Hawkeye said, looking right at him, brisk and focused. She was already reaching into the folio she had with her, pulling out a ticket and handing it to him. “Here is your ticket. We can board in,” she looked at the clock, “nine minutes. The trip will take about five hours so we should arrive at 1pm. Did you bring something to eat?”

Havoc nodded. “Yes, sir. Got myself a sandwich, some cheese, apples, and cookies.” He grinned. “Ma sent me some of their apples and a tin of cookies, so there’s enough to share.”

Hawkeye nodded without returning an ounce of emotion. “Very good. There won’t be much in the way of places to eat once we arrive.”

That seemed to catch Mustang’s attention and he looked back at them. “Well that’s going to make this week interesting then, isn’t it, Captain.” It was just a comment, but there was a slight undertone to it that Havoc couldn’t quite pick up.

The air around Hawkeye seemed to freeze in a way that Havoc had honestly though only Olivier Armstrong could do. (Maybe it was just something that strong women could do?). “I have it arranged, sir.” She said, her voice clipped and terse. There was another undertone to her voice as well, and Havoc got the mental image of a gun being cocked. “There is a kitchen.”

For a moment, Mustang looked at her and she stared back, and the tension seemed to grow. Havoc was almost scared to move, but self-preservation had never been one of his strengths.

“Well depending on what food is there, I can make a few mean dishes,” He cut in, hoping to ease the tension. It only seemed to have a minimal effect, but they both did mentally step back from whatever unsaid battle they were having. Havoc cleared his voice and tried to find another subject to talk about, reaching for anything he could find. “Ah—so, no Hayate, Hawkeye? I thought the pooch might enjoy running around in a county town.”

“I thought so as well,” Mustang muttered. “Thought he might be a good companion.”

That tension returned somewhat, and if he wasn’t so scared of accidently kicking something off, Havoc would have slapped his own forehead. Apparently, he had stumbled into another point of contention.

“He doesn’t do good on trains, sir, and you know it.” Hawkeye’s reply was terse, at best. “And considering this is going to be a six-hour trip, I determined that it would be best to leave him with Fuery.”

Havoc couldn’t remember the little dog doing badly on the train back from Ishval, but if Hawkeye didn’t want to bring the dog with her, then he wasn’t going to get in the middle of that. An awkward silence fell over them, and Havoc shifted from foot to foot, trying to figure out what to say next, if anything at all. It took him a moment to realize that both of his superior officers were staring at him with slight looks of guilt on their faces, and another moment to realize why. They must have thought that his shifting was because of his legs hurting him, and not because of nerves. He could feel the tension ease a little and decided not to correct them, even if their assumption was wrong.

“What?” he deadpanned.

“I’m going to go see if there’s any way we can board a few minutes early,” Hawkeye said. Havoc blinked at that. Considering she didn’t want to make this trip at all, he had half expected her to resist up until the very end. But apparently her concern for him overrode that, which was really nice of her, honestly.

She strode off quickly, Mustang and Havoc looking after her. After a moment, Havoc spoke. “I don’t know what you did, sir, but whatever it is has got Hawkeye more than upset with you.” He glanced at him. “Maybe you should try to talk it out.”

Mustang let out a frustrated huff, although Havoc was pretty sure it wasn’t directed at him. “I’ve tried. But she won’t listen to reason. I keep explaining it, but she’s just angry no matter what I say.”

Havoc scratched at his chin, still holding his rucksack over his shoulder. “Hm, well, if you’re not getting through with your words, maybe it’s time to stop talking and listen. Sometimes what’s really bothering someone is deeper than the words they say.”

Mustang stared at him for a moment, then looked away with a snort. “I swear, you country types dole out words of wisdom like that any chance you get. Do you just compile them in a book to pull out later or what?”

Havoc grinned at him. “Fortune cookie, sir.”

Mustang opened his mouth to respond, but before he could Hawkeye approached them again. “I talked to the conductor. He said that it was alright for us to board a few minutes early. Fortunately, our car isn’t far.”

“Very good,” Mustang said. He hesitated for a moment, and Havoc took advantage of that to give the two a moment alone.

“Ya know, I think I’m gonna run to the bathroom really quick before we board,” Havoc said, sitting his rucksack down. “It’ll only take a moment; I’ll be right back.”

For a moment, Mustang looked panicked. But this his expression smoothed out and Havoc left, hoping that when he got back, both his commanding officers would be in a better mood.

Havoc didn’t hurry as he walked with his loping stride over to the public bathrooms. He knew he couldn’t take too long, but he also wanted to give his two commanding officers the time to work things out or at least start on it before he got back.

It was perplexing, this tension between the two of them. Yeah, the two of them had moments of tension before, but it usually didn’t last long. The two of them would work it out and, given a couple of days, it would all be right again. More than once both of them came in looking exhausted, as if they had stayed up late talking it through, but it was solved. Or, and it happened sometimes, there were contrived moments of tension between them for a mission. But while those were always well played to the average onlooker, there was never the presence of actual tension there.

But this tension? This tension was deep.

It felt… old. Like it had existed before, in some form. Like it wasn’t supposed to exist anymore, but it did now, and that’s what made it worse. Like it was supposed to have been forgotten. There was something more to it, something deeply personal. It had flavors of that deep connection the two of them had, but there was something more to it, something else. Havoc had no idea what it was, but he knew that it existed.

With a sigh, he put those thoughts aside and finished up his business, making his way back to where he had left Mustang and Hawkeye. He took a glance at the station clock as he walked. He’d managed to waste three minutes, so maybe they had at least started to resolve something of this.

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be the case when he got to them. If anything, Hawkeye looked more PO’ed then when he had left. Havoc rolled his eyes. What had the General done this time to tick her off?

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he said as he ambled up to them and they both turned to look his way.

“No, it’s perfectly acceptable, Lieutenant,” Hawkeye said, her voice as professional as ever. “We can go ahead and board now.”

Havoc reached down to pick up his rucksack, and noticed Hawkeye sweeping her carpetbag up with a bit of a glare at Mustang. She was holding onto it almost possessively, and practically turned her nose up at Mustang’s own expensive luggage. Havoc wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard Mustang mutter something about “offer to replace something” under his breath before following along behind her. Havoc shook his head. Mustang had apparently put his foot in his mouth again—this time by insulting her luggage. Sometimes he wondered how in the world Mustang had ever become known as a ladies’ man.

(It did strike him as a bit odd, though, how possessive Hawkeye seemed over that simple bag. But he filed that away for later consideration)

The train was empty, as the three of them got to board ahead of everyone else. Although he was only a few steps behind Mustang, by the time Havoc had climbed aboard the train car, Hawkeye had already found their seat and was loading her carpet bag into the luggage rack. Her folio was sitting on one of the benches along with some files that had appeared from seemingly nowhere, and he grimaced a bit. He sure hoped that she didn’t expect him to work on this train ride.

Mustang put his own suitcase up, and Havoc followed suit. But when he turned to sit down, he had to blink in surprise. Hawkeye had sat down on one of the benches while the men had been putting their luggage away and had promptly spread her paperwork all over the seat next to her. A grumpy looking Mustang looked down at it, before sitting himself across from her, clearly a bit ticked off. Havoc looked between then and sighed. Yep, this was going to be a long train ride. He sat down and leaned back in the seat. Might as well get as comfortable as he could. Who knew? Maybe he’d get a nap in, or his mama’s cookies would work some sort of magic.

He could only hope.

While Havoc certainly thought his Ma’s cookies were magic, they apparently didn’t have the kind of magic that could fix whatever was going on between Mustang and Hawkeye. It ran deeper than any surface level fix, and the train ride didn’t help it. Havoc dozed for the first part of it, Hawkeye consenting to moving some of her paperwork so that He could put his legs up and stretch them out. She seemed to be continually working on it, even when he woke up for brief moments here and there. Havoc wondered if it was really that intense, or if she was just going over it again and again to appear to be occupied. Mustang didn’t take it well as she ignored him, and instead stared grumpily out the window for a bit. Eventually he pulled out a black notebook from his pocket and started working in it, flipping back and forth between pages. For some reason, that seemed to bother Hawkeye more, although Havoc could see no reason why.

It wasn’t getting figured out on this train ride, though, that much was obvious. Whatever this between them was, it wasn’t for public knowledge, and there was plenty of the public on this train. Havoc had seen that as he walked himself up and down the train a few times, stopping to talk to some passengers here and there. He had trouble staying still for very long nowadays and the walking helped. He had hoped that it would give Mustang and Hawkeye time to at least soften a little towards each other, but as he came back this last time, it was clear there was no dice, which was a shame. He had been hoping that the next meal they ate wouldn’t be as tense as that silent lunch. That had been awkward.

“Finally tired of playing with children?” Mustang asked him as he sat back down, the General barely looking up from his black notebook.

“Nope. But their Ma told them to settle down and sent me on my way. I know better than to get in the way of that.” Havoc responded.

“You certainly seemed to keep them entertained.”

“I like kids, you know? They kinda reminded me of some of my nieces and nephews. Kids need to enjoy some carefree years in there. It’s good for them.”

If he hadn’t of glanced up then, Havoc was sure that he would have missed it. Something flitted over Hawkeye’s face, and a look of concern filtered over Mustangs as he looked at her. It was gone almost before he even registered it, but it was there.

What had he said? His first thought was that perhaps it was related to Ishval, and the kids they knew would never be able to have carefree years. Several times Havoc had seen little things like that put a haunted look over both of the veterans’ faces, even if just for a moment. But there was something different about this. Whatever it was, it centered on Hawkeye, just because Mustang had looked concerned _at_ her not _with_ her.

What was going on here?

“Anyway,” he said, trying not to let on that he had seen anything, “We should be arriving in Awrout in about forty minutes. The Conductor further up is making his way down, suggesting that anyone getting off there go ahead and start getting ready. Apparently, they’re not going to stay long in town, just long enough to load and unload.”

“Of course not,” It was probably the first time since lunch that Riza had actually spoken. She was carefully gathering her papers, taking the time to stack them nicely. It was a tactic designed to take up time, and she wasn’t fooling either man with that anymore, although neither called her out on it. She glanced out the window at the passing forest. “There’s nothing of consequence in Awrout. It only has a stop because the trains needed to get water at some point.”

There was something almost bitter in her tone, and her eyes had a hard glint to them, but she turned her attention back towards her paperwork, stacking it carefully again, and Havoc couldn’t read her as well.

“I don’t know anything about it. Maybe I shoulda let Falman recite the encyclopedia entry to me,” Havoc said, trying to ease the tension a bit. “Then I would have known what kind of a place I’m walking into, at least.” He paused, but there was no response from either Mustang or Hawkeye, so he just shrugged and continued. “But alright, small place, got it.”

The three of them fell silent after that, no one, apparently, willing to continue the conversation. Fortunately, it wasn’t too much longer before the train pulled into the station. They got their things, and disembarked, although not before Havoc had waved bye to the kids he had played with earlier, tossing them an apple to share. With one last grin at them, he followed Mustang and Hawkeye down off the train and onto the platform.

Havoc put his rucksack down and took a moment to look around as he stretched. Awrout really wasn’t much of anything. The train platform was literally that, a platform, with a small covered are for the station master to be at. Wooden stairs led down to the road, which was nothing but packed dirt. Havoc spied a general store, a stable, a clinic, what looked to be a small inn, and a few other shops or buildings here and there. It was a small country town, although it looked like it was kept up well, and the people seemed to be friendly enough, looking at them curiously, but giving a nod or a wave their way.

Despite the friendly atmosphere, Hawkeye was, if it was possible, stiffer than before. It was like something in this place was making her shoulders pull back, and her spine stand straighter. She didn’t say anything, just looked at the town with a tight look on her face, and something Havoc couldn’t place in her eyes. Mustang was clearly eyeing her out of the corner of his eye as if waiting for something to happen. When she didn’t move or say anything for a few moments, he spoke.

“Where to now, Captain?” he said as they stood there. “You made the plans.”

It was like a spell over her had been broken and she could move again, although there was still that tension between them. Havoc decided he was best off to stay behind them.

“Yes, sir, as you ordered,” she said tersely, and Havoc was sure there was some sort of double meaning there that he wasn’t aware of. “The general store is supposed to have a wagon with supplies for us. I’ll go talk to Mr. Nelson. Wait here, sir. Havoc.”

Her voice was sharp, and he started a little, not expecting to be addressed. “Yes, sir!”

“Watch over the General.”

“Yes, sir.”

She left them there, striding over the general store, carpetbag in hand. Havoc noticed a child who was sweeping run inside, and within minutes an older man came out. It didn’t take him long to see Hawkeye—all of them stood out in their uniforms, honestly—and he smiled at her and started talking. Havoc wasn’t close enough to hear the conversation, but it seemed to be going a little long for a prearranged cart with supplies.

Hawkeye expression hadn’t changed, but she was clearly participating in the conversation. Havoc noticed with a glance at Mustang that he seemed almost relived to see the exchange. As Hawkeye allowed the man to take her carpetbag, and put his hand on her back almost familiarly, it occurred to Havoc what it was. It wasn’t just a conversation about a wagon with supplies, the man knew her. He knew her and he was catching up with her. And she knew him as well. It was just like when the children that grew up in Havoc’s hometown came back by the store after moving away. His Ma spent at least a good five minutes catching up with them.

Havoc glanced around. He always knew that Riza had country in her. Her voice was pretty smooth, but there were certain words, or turns of phrase that gave it away. Not to mention things she knew that people who grew up in cities didn’t. But was it possible this was her hometown? She had never mentioned where she was from, just that it was “out east” and “too small to be of consequence.” This could easily be the town she grew up in.

So why all the tension? And why come back here for research? And—and why was Mustang giving a group of men the stink eye?

He hadn’t noticed it until just now, but Mustang seemed to be eyeing some men that looked like they were somewhere around the same age as the three of them. His gaze had distaste and a little hostility in it, and it put Havoc on edge. The men, who were locals from the looks of them, seemed to be eyeing Mustang with wariness and curiosity. It was as if Mustang knew these men and had a past with them. But wasn’t Mustang a city boy? How did the general know them? What in the world had he wandered into? Or, well, been ordered into, but same difference, honestly.

He was just beginning to wonder if he should break Mustang’s line of sight when Hawkeye came walking back to them, her carpetbag gone but her voice all business. “Mr. Nelson is having the wagon loaded with supplies for the week. It’s almost finished. He also said that he has it set up with the livery for us to keep it and the horses for the wee—what are you looking at!”

Her words were harsh and sharp, and Havoc winced, not wanting to be on the receiving end of them. Mustang had turned his attention mostly back to her when she walked up, but he had kept his eye on that group of men, and she had, of course, noticed. She turned to look at what he was looking at, and Havoc couldn’t help but notice the way her lips pressed flat and her back straightened even more.

Mustang turned to look back at Hawkeye, and Havoc could see him shift slightly, as if he were ready to get between her and those men. “Nothing, Captain, I’m looking at nothing.”

Her attention shifted back to him, and her cool eyes narrowed just slightly. “The wagon is this way,” was all she said, though, and executed a nearly perfect military turn before tersely walking away from them and towards the general store.

Mustang took one last look at the men, and then turned to follow Hawkeye. Havoc had to bend to pick up his rucksack, and lingered, just a moment, enough to catch bits and pieces of conversation.

“—back again—”

“—together—”

“—cried. She’s toughened—”

“—he came—"

“—protected her—"

“—left her—”

“—her dad—”

“—Ishval. The papers—"

He couldn’t linger long, but he caught just enough for him to get the impression that it wasn’t the first time that these men had seen Mustang and Hawkeye together. Hawkeye fit in being from here, but Mustang? He was a city kid through and through if Havoc had ever seen one. He was definitely missing puzzle pieces. The problem was, he wasn’t sure that this was his puzzle to solve.

Catching up with Mustang and Hawkeye easily enough, she led them around back to the loading area. It was about what he expected to find. A slightly different design then the layout his family had, it was pretty much the same all in all. A couple of guys that looked like they could be Mr. Nelson’s sons or grandsons were busy securing the items and Mr. Nelson himself was talking to Hawkeye and Mustang. His familiarity seemed to extend to the general as well, just adding to the idea that Mustang had spent time here.

“I’m going t’ trust that you still remember how t’ drive a wagon, Miss Hawkeye,” Mr. Nelson said as Havoc walked up “I know you were more used t’ a cart, but the principle’s the same.”

“It’s Captain Hawkeye, now, sir, and yes, I’m sure I can manage,” Hawkeye replied.

Mr. Nelson seemed to eye her, and then Mustang. “Well so long as you don’t let him try. He twas never very good at it.”

“I can do it,” Havoc interjected, cutting off whatever indignant remark his boss was about to say. They all turned to look at him, and he stepped forward, reaching out to offer his hand to Mr. Nelson. “Jean Havoc, sir,” he said, “Lieutenant. I can drive that. My folks have had ones just about like it all my life. Sturdiest wagons you’ll ever meet. Used to take it out for my folks to make delivers or pick up, when I was old enough.”

The old man seemed to brighten at this and turned his attention to Havoc. “Your folks own a store? Whereabouts?”

“Further east then here, closer to the boarder,” Havoc replied.

It was a good starting point, and the two of them launched into a brief conversation about general stories, running them, deliveries, and various other shop keeping details while Hawkeye and Mustang wandered away. The old man seemed eager to compare and contrast and take in any good ideas, and Havoc didn’t mind sharing, even if he did keep an eye on his superior officers during it. Hawkeye moved to oversee the loading with a tight stiffness to her, and he could see Mustang move to stand a little closer to her. When he got to a certain point, though, she abruptly turned away from him. For a moment he saw a look of frustration cross Mustang’s face before it smoothed out.

“She always twas stubborn.”

Havoc startled for a moment, returning his full attention to Mr. Nelson. “What?”

“Oh, young Miss Hawkeye. Or well, Captain now, I suppose. She’s always been a stubborn independent thing.”

Well, it seemed to confirm Havoc’s suspicions that this was Hawkeye’s hometown, at least, but not much more than that. “Yeah?” he asked, not offering any information, but hoping that the old man would give him some.

Havoc was in luck.

“Mm, yessir. Always kept t’ herself, always quiet. Never wanted t’ accept help. Seemed determined t’ do things on her own and as unobtrusively as possible. Almost would freeze right up if she thought you’d taken note o’ her troubles. She dealt with her own problems. The only times she seem t’ get in any sort of state was when her father was sick, or when that boy came.” Mr. Nelson was looking in the direction of both Mustang and Hawkeye and Havoc couldn’t help but wonder if he was talking about more than just Hawkeye.

“That boy?” he asked, hoping for a little more information

“Mm,” Mr. Nelson said. “Just a city boy looking for a teacher. Flustered all the girls and made all the boys mad. Miss Hawkeye twas the only one who didn’t seem t’ fall for his charm. Thought she hated him for a while. But then something changed, and they seemed as thick as thieves. Shame about them both joining, up, though. I’d hoped he’d ask her to marry him. She deserved something good in her life after—hey! You two know better than t’ secure it like that!”

Mr. Nelson abruptly abandoned the conversation to go deal with the wagon, but that was alright with Havoc. It was more information than he had hoped for, even if he had never had a direct confirmation that the boy Mr. Nelson had talked about was Mustang. It was definitely implied, but implications weren’t confirmations, even if it did give Havoc something to turn over in his mind.

“Lieutenant Havoc.”

He turned at Hawkeye’s call, filing Mr. Nelson’s words away for later consideration. “Yessir?” he said as he moved over towards her.

“Please come make sure that you can drive this wagon before we attempt it.”

“Yeah, sure.” He ambled up towards the wagon, giving it a practiced look over. It seemed pretty standard to him. “Yeah, no problem. Like I said, I grew up on wagons like this.”

“Very well,” Hawkeye said, before turning back to Mr. Nelson, who had come up to the group of them now. “Thank you for arranging all of this. I assume you already received the payment?”

“I did, but don’t you worry about that,” he said. “You gonna be alright?”

This time, Havoc noted, she didn’t smile. “Yes, this will be sufficient. We shouldn’t be here long.”

It seemed that Mr. Nelson wanted to say something more, but Hawkeye had already turned away and left to climb onto the wagon. Havoc shrugged, gave the man a friendly grin and a handshake, and climbed up on the other side of Hawkeye. He heard Mustang also thanking Mr. Nelson as well, and Havoc familiarized himself with the reigns while they waited.

Havoc couldn’t help but see how stiffly Hawkeye sat, looking straight ahead, like she was about to ride this wagon into a battle zone. There was clearly some subtext here that Havoc didn’t get and that she didn’t want to talk about, but what it was, exactly, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that whatever it was, it didn’t seem to be good.

When he felt the dip of Mustang getting on board, he looked over at the both of them. “Alright, which way?” he asked.

“Straight out of town,” Hawkeye said, her voice terse. “Just keep going. I’ll tell you when to turn.”

“Right-o.” He gave the reigns a snap, and they started moving, heading out of town like Hawkeye had said. They garnered some stares from the townsfolk as they went down the main street, but with them all in uniform Havoc couldn’t really blame the townspeople. Mustang looked around a bit as they rode, as if reacquainting himself with the place, but Hawkeye kept her gaze straight ahead. They fell quiet as they rode, and Havoc decided to let it be as he focused instead on driving the wagon out of town and down the road.

After all, Havoc got the feeling that this was far from over.

As the wagon bumped along, Havoc took a good look at the landscape around them. It was a varied place, going from town, to scattered houses, to fields and rolling hills, to forest land. Livestock roamed the hills, Havoc spotting everything from cows to sheep to goats. The fields were filled with crops growing, mostly either hay or corn, although he recognized some soybeans, potatoes, cotton, and few areas of more varied crops that he guessed were more for local consumption then mass production. Dotted here and there he recognized orchards too, mostly pecan and apple, although he saw some cherry, peach, and walnut groves as well. The forests that he saw seemed to interrupt the fields every so often, but aside from some wild patches, they seemed strangely evenly spaced until he realize he was looking at tree farms.

On the whole, though, it seemed to be a pretty typical farming community, although nicely varied in what was grown. Tree farms aside, this clearly wasn’t a cash crop area, but one that focused more on common sustainability. He wondered what the main export of the town was, especially as they moved further into forest land, and regretted not letting Falman tell him about Arwout.

But for all his observations of the land, Havoc also observed Hawkeye and Mustang. Hawkeye’s hands seemed to grip her knees harder the further they went, her knuckles turning white eventually. She never looked around and her tension only seemed to increase the further that they rode. Mustang’s focus shifted more and more towards Hawkeye, and Havoc could see the general growing more tense as she did. Mustang attempted to reach out to her more than once, but his attempts were rejected. Worried glances, a rejected brushing of her hand, decided looks away from him—clearly, whatever was going on, she wasn’t willing to give.

They rode for what about thirty minutes before Hawkeye told him to turn off the main road and down a barely kept side road. Havoc honestly would have missed it if she hadn’t pointed it out and he frowned a little as he gently took the wagon down it at a much slower pace. The road was rough and unkept, with ruts carved out by water. It wouldn’t do to get the wagon stuck or to break a wheel by going too fast. He was sure that the horses would be fine, but the wagon and its goods were more concerning, and Havoc had to concentrate on the road and little else as they moved down it.

It was probably about twenty minutes later when they finally got off the overgrown and rain-rutted road and out into a wider area that looked like it might have once been a yard. It was now overgrown with weeds, grass, vines, and patches of flowers that looked as if they had once been intentionally planted. A large house stood in the middle of the area, obviously once a very stately place, but now run down, although basically maintained. Behind it was an old barn, a chicken coop, a shed, and a gazebo, none of which were in good repair, save the barn. Trees grew close to the house, branches scratching up against it. Past the clearing that could have been a yard, Havoc could see the tree line of the forest, and what might have once been an orchard off to one side. Whatever this place was, once upon a time, it had been important.

“We’re here.”

Havoc glanced over at Hawkeye who was staring at the house with a shuttered expression, something lurking in her eyes. Her voice was tight, strain in it and he didn’t miss the tight look of concern that Mustang gave her. For a moment there was silence, and Havoc wasn’t sure that he should break it. Then, abruptly, her countenance shifted back to that tightly controlled anger and she looked over at Mustang. “Your orders, sir?” she questioned, her voice razor sharp again.

Mustang’s own face went from concern back to the stern, put-off look that had decorated his face most of the day, and this time he didn’t try to smooth it out. “Unlock the house, Captain. Lieutenant, drive this wagon around back and we’ll unload things in the kitchen. I’ll check on the woodpile.

Both Hawkeye and Havoc responded with a “yes, sir” and Hawkeye climbed over them to get down and head towards the front door of the house. Mustang’s jaw worked for a moment, almost as if he wanted to say something else. Instead, he told Havoc to keep going, and Havoc obliged. He dropped him off halfway around the house and made his way with the wagon to the backdoor. He still didn’t know what was going on, but it was obvious that both Mustang and Hawkeye knew their way around this house, and that Hawkeye had the key.

Havoc parked the wagon on the backside of the house, as near to the backdoor as he could make it. From the looks of it, it was probably the kitchen door, which was just as well. A lot of this was food stuff and the kitchen would be the best place for it. It seemed Hawkeye wasn’t at the kitchen yet, if the closed door meant anything, so Havoc took a moment to look around at the house and area a bit more.

It had at one time been a stately home, that much was obvious. It was a large house, at least two floors and an attic, and he’d estimate four or five bedrooms, probably a study or two. He’d lay odds on indoor plumbing as well, something that was often retrofitted on old homes. He looked up and around, spotting a singular electrical line coming to the house, but the light above the door was clearly meant for oil. Whatever electricity the house had, he’d lay odds that it only went to appliances. He guessed that it was to a refrigerator or maybe even a freezer or hot water heater. If they were lucky, it would go to a radio too. It probably didn’t go to a stove or heat if Mustang was looking for firewood. And he doubted, from the look of the house, that it went to lights.

The house itself didn’t look to be in bad repair, not exactly. It had clearly seen better days, and had repairs done to it, but there had been an attempt at upkeep, even if it could use some more. It was clearly in need of a new coat of paint, the shutters were either in need of replacing or just altogether missing, there were missing shingles along the edge of the roof, and the house just looked overall dirty, with lichen and moss creeping up it. It seemed, to his layman’s eye, to be structurally sound, though, and that was reassuring at least.

The outbuildings seemed to be in much worse shape that the house, although he supposed that made sense. If this wasn’t a working farm anymore, then upkeep of the house would take priority. The outbuildings were still pretty bad, though. The roof of the chicken coop had fallen in and the chicken wire surrounding it was rusted and missing in places. The shed was missing a door, and the other one was warped, and sagging. The gazebo looked to have once been white, but the roof now had a hole in it, and it was clearly filthy. It wasn’t hard to see where birds and wasps had made their homes in it over the years, or how the vines—he really hoped that wasn’t poison ivy—had crept up it.

Of the outbuildings, the barn seemed to be in the best shape, although it sagged a bit in the middle. The doors weren’t quite closing evenly, and a large rock sat in front of them to keep them closed. It could do with a coat of paint worse than the house could. The inside, he hoped, was in decent repair. The horses would need somewhere to stay while they were here, after all.

With the exception of a small area around the house that seemed to be maintained--enough to walk and pull a cart around, anyway--most of the yard seemed to be overgrown. He could spot an area that looked like it might have once been a garden, but it was long full of weeds and grass at this point. A bit back there were rows of trees, some dead, that looked as if they had been deliberately planted that way, lending more evidence to the idea that it had, at one point, been an orchard of some sort. Not far from the gazebo he could see flowers growing, although no longer in any sort of deliberate planted pattern. But from the types he saw, someone had lovingly planted them there at one point.

The whole place gave Havoc a bit of a chill, honestly. It spoke of something that had once been great but was now just a shell. It made it seem like something had happened, something ominous, and it made him shift a bit uncomfortably. Was this the place that Hawkeye had grown up? It would make sense, considering how the town seemed to know her and how she had a key to the place. But this wasn’t damage that could have happened in the time since she had been in the academy. This sort of degradation took longer than that. Had she grown up with this place falling apart all around her? And how did Mustang fit into all of this?

A sound of a door unsticking, and then scraping open pulled Havoc’s attention back from his musings and he looked to see Hawkeye forcing the kitchen door open. She grimaced a little bit and looked at the door with a bit of annoyance.

“I guess that couldn’t be easily fixed,” she said with a huff, before looking up at him.

“This a good place, or should I move it on a bit?” Havoc asked her from the wagon.

Hawkeye shook her head. “No, this is good. Help me unload the wagon, and then head to the barn to put the horses up. I had some supplies delivered there for them earlier in the week.”

“You got it,” he said, making sure that the brakes were on before he climbed down and made his way around to the back of the wagon.

Mustang came around the corner, a bit of dirt on his uniform and brushing off his hand. “There’s some firewood, but not a lot,” he said as he approached them. “The circle is still intact, though, so all we need is some logs.”

It seemed an odd statement to Havoc, but Hawkeye apparently understood it. Her expression tightened again, and she pulled some supplies off of the wagon, not even bothering to look at Mustang. “Well, then I guess there’s no orders needed to know who is doing that job.”

She walked inside with her load, and Havoc looked back at Mustang for a moment. His jaw was a bit clenched and he seemed to be actively trying to hold his patience. Deciding that this was something he didn’t want to get in the middle of, Havoc grabbed a load off the back of the wagon and made his way inside the door that was, apparently, stuck open as it hadn’t even tried to close.

The kitchen was dark, despite the windows, and Hawkeye was busy lighting a lamp to give them some more light. Her load of supplies was sitting on a wooden countertop that looked clean, but in poor repair. There was a deep sink that was stained, with a window above it for light. A refrigerator stood nearby confirming Havoc’s suspicions as to where the electricity was going. There was still an old-fashioned ice chest that stood nearby as well, although the place for the ice was empty and the door for the ice box was swung open. The kitchen contained a wood-burning stove and oven as well, a nice size, actually, and cast iron, with stove pipping that still looked intact leading out.

It was, honestly, a pretty nice kitchen, if a bit run down and old fashioned. But it was still perfectly workable.

Mustang came in behind him, carrying a load of his own and sat it on the old but still solid looking table that was in the kitchen. Hawkeye glanced back at it and him, and then turned back to unloading her supplies.

“I’ll get these put away,” she said, without looking back at them.

“You got it,” Havoc said, turning to go back to the wagon. He saw Mustang hesitate for a moment, and then headed back out with Havoc. For the next few minutes the two men worked bringing in supplies while Hawkeye organized and put them away. At some point she filled the sink with water and soap, wiping down the cabinets as she worked. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised that she was cleaning even as she was putting things away.

“Alright, that’s the last of it,” Mustang said as he and Havoc brought the last load in, sitting it on one of the chairs.

Havoc stretched his back, popping it, and looked at the two of them. “I’ll go take care of the horses and the wagon.” He shot Mustang a cheeky grin. “No offense, Chief, but something tells me I’m better at this then you.”

Mustang scowled and Havoc heard him mumble “I’m not completely incompetent,” as he went out the door.

The door was still stuck open, and so far, no one had bothered to try to close it, so Havoc didn’t bother either, instead going to the wagon to start putting it away.

“Do you want help putting things away?” Mustang’s voice drifted out from the open door.

“Do you remember where things go?” Hawkeye’s voice was sharp, cutting. “Or are you so focused on finding his research that you’ve forgotten.”

“Riza. That’s not fair.”

Havoc grimaced to himself at the words that he heard, but it wasn’t his conversation to know. He climbed up on the wagon and started backing the horses up, letting that cover up anything else he might have heard. Whatever was going on between Mustang and Hawkeye, it was clearly something that went back much further than Havoc was privy to. It was none of his business--even if there was a part of him that wanted to know.

The barn was still in good enough repair that he didn’t mind leaving the horses in it, and there were supplies there, just as Hawkeye had said. He wished there was a pasture for them to roam in, but maybe he could figure out something to do about that later. It didn’t take him long to get the wagon put away and the horses settled, but he didn’t feel like spending extra time out there with them. With the way things had been going, he wanted to get back to Mustang and Hawkeye. He hoped that things hadn’t gotten worse in his absence.

Still, he didn’t hurry as he strolled back to the house. It wasn’t far from the barn, but it gave him time to take a good look at the place. It could be a really nice, if it was fixed up. Move that tree that was almost growing into the house, re-landscape the yard and the flowers, even out the drive, replant the orchard. The house and buildings would be more work, with the way they were sagging and had cracks here and there. He wasn’t sure how much work that would take, or even if it was worth it, but he did know it was possible. He was pretty sure that Ed could have done a decent job of it, if he could be convinced to stay to the style and not put his own tacky input in, but without his alchemy that wasn’t going to happen. Alphonse would probably do a good job too, but he was off studying in Xing—and hopefully courting a princess, the lucky brat. Then again, if anyone deserved it, it was Alphonse.

Of course, all of that was supposing that Hawkeye even wanted the house fixed up. She obviously put some amount of work into keeping it in basic repair, but she didn’t bother to keep it up too much. There were lots of things that needed to be fixed, like that door and the cracked windows he was just noticing. But if she did, Havoc was sure that they knew enough people to call in favors for her. Maybe Ed could even work up some circles or whatever for Mustang to do it. Ed was still an alchemic genius, even if he couldn’t do alchemy anymore, and Mustang had the happy-clappy alchemy now. If the two of them could work together, then they could probably do it. Havoc figured if they were going to get along to do something for someone, he’d bet they’d do it for Hawkeye.

When Havoc walked back into the kitchen, that door still stuck open, Mustang was the only one there. He was putting things away, a bit of frustration in his movements. For a moment, Havoc wondered if he should ask, but standing there would do no good, so he bit the bullet and asked anyway.

“Hey, Chief. Where’ Hawkeye?”

Mustang didn’t look back at him, just kept stacking canned goods. “She went to open windows to air out the house and make up beds.” He jerked his head at some packages that were sitting on the table, tied up with brown paper and string. “Can you take those up to her? I’m pretty sure those are sheets and blankets she had cleaned for us.”

“Sure. She upstairs?”

“Yeah. Use the stairway in the entrance hall. The back stairs have always been rickety.”

Havoc raised an eyebrow at that, taking note that Mustang apparently knew this house pretty well. He said nothing about it, though, just picked up the three rather heavy packages and hoisted them up. There was only one other exit out of the kitchen, and it led into what appeared to be a dining room. A sturdy table and chairs, a china hutch, and a sideboard stood in there. The wood could clearly use some care, but it had been a nice dining room suit at one point, heavy and sturdy, but with good lines and carving. The back of the hutch seemed to be a tarnished mirror, and there were wrapped packages in it that Havoc was sure were dishes of some sort. Broken pieces of china with delicate pink and yellow roses sitting in it seemed to confirm that theory, and he idly wondered what had happened to that piece.

The dining room had two exits, one to a hallway, and one to what looked to be a sitting room or parlor. He took a glance in that as he went by, seeing, again, what was once very nice, if dated and worn, furniture, and what seemed to be an upright piano against one wall, all of it looking very formal, set for receiving guests. Of course, it didn’t look as if it had seen guests in maybe more years then he had been alive, but with some care it could be nice again.

He stepped out into the hall, which was dark and a bit narrow. There were clear marks on the walls of where decorations of some sort used to be hanging. All that was left now were lamps and candle sconces, and it lent it an eerie sort of feel. He followed it only a short way before he realized he was walking parallel to the staircase and emerged into what seemed to be a bit of a foyer. Again, there were things that had one been nice here, but had clearly fallen into disrepair. A bench, a coat rack, and an umbrella stand, things of that sort were still in the foyer. He could see what seemed to be a more comfortable living room—although maybe ‘less formal’ was a better phrase then ‘more comfortable.’ Nothing in this house seemed to be comfortable--from the foyer and wondered briefly if it was more lived in then the parlor.

However, he didn’t bother to look in the living room besides a glance, instead heading up the stairs. He was curious, sure, and there were more rooms downstairs he hadn’t seen, but he’d probably see those later, considering they were searching for something. He could wait. He ascended the stairs instead, balancing carefully with the heavy packages. The stairs creaked a bit as he went up, but seemed stable enough, which was a relief.

The stairs opened up into a long hallway, with rooms on either side. A window was at both ends, open for the moment to let the place air out. It was still dark, though, as if the sunlight just couldn’t quite penetrate into the house. Havoc looked to see more sconces on the walls, but little else. Fortunately, a noise from a room down the hall, as if someone was moving around, tipped him off as to Hawkeye’s location, and he headed towards it.

The room she was in was on the corner and very plain. It, too, had furniture that had once been nice in it but was now old and could use a little work. He did notice what looked like several burn marks around the room and on some of the furniture as well, which was curious. Riza herself was opening up the corner windows, letting air in, and, although she appeared not to notice him, Havoc was smarter than that. She was typically aware of what was going on around her, and he was positive that hadn’t changed.

“Heya, Riza. Boss said you might need these.”

She turned to look at him, not the least bit surprised, and nodded. “Sit them on the bed,” she instructed him. As soon as he did, her nimble fingers were picking through the paper, confirming what was in each package. “Alright. This one stays here,” she said, pointing to one. “The others go in the other rooms. Would you mind helping me make up the beds? With two of us it should go much quicker.”

“Sure thing.” Havoc moved the other two packages off the bed and watched as Hawkeye untied the one she had selected, revealing a set of white sheets, a compressed pillow, and a heavy quilt of blues. He caught one corner of the sheet that she tossed to him and moved in tandem with her to start making the bed. “So, who’s sleeping in here?” he asked her.

“This is the general’s room,” she said. “He’ll bring his luggage up here later.”

It was interesting, Havoc thought, the way that she phrased it, as if Mustang already knew where he was staying even though he hadn’t been up here yet. Obviously whatever time Mustang had spent here, it was more than just a couple of visits.

It also made him curious as to the burn marks, but a quick look at Riza made it clear that she was not open to any questions on that, and so he dropped it.

If the Academy had taught them anything, it was how to quickly make a bed. It took them no more than a few minutes to be done with it and ready to move to the next room. Riza picked up one of the packages, gesturing for Havoc to get the other, and they moved on.

This room was a little smaller, but the furniture definitely had a more feminine feel to it, with softer curves, and carved hearts here and there. There was a singular window with faded curtains and the branches of the tree that was growing into the house right outside of it. The bed stand had obviously once been painted white, and this room still had little personal touches in here, like a jewelry box, a trunk that was painted for a little girl, a sewing kit, and, sitting on the bare bed, a ratty stuffed rabbit that had clearly been repaired many times over. He couldn’t help but notice the way that Hawkeye’s fingers lingered on the doorknob as she opened the door.

“Hey—this your room, Reez?” he asked her, not bothering to ask if this was her house. She had to know that he figured that out by now.

She looked sharply up at him, as if he had just reminded her that she wasn’t quite alone. “Yes,” she said curtly. “This was my room.”

“It’s cute. Musta been a nice little escape for you, huh?”

Something in her face tightened again, and he caught a glimpse of the same look that she had gotten on the train when he had mentioned kids needing to be kids. His brow furrowed. Something was definitely not right, and it was beginning to cause an uneasy feeling in his chest. What was it about childhood that had her reacting that way?

“It was what it was,” she said before he could think too deeply on it. “Let’s just get the bed made up.”

“Sure.”

He didn’t say anything more but watched as she took the rabbit and tossed him onto the dresser before they started making up the bed. Her movements were almost military precise again, as if she were focusing on them instead of her emotions. The quilt they spread here was made of little squares of light colors, something Havoc could see appealing to a little girl. Hawkeye smoothed it out, and Havoc caught the slightest lingering of her fingers before she picked up the other package and made her way out of the room. He hesitated for a moment, then reached over for the rabbit, sitting him on the pillow.

“She might need you, buddy,” he said, before turning and following her to the next bedroom.

This bedroom was also very plain but seemed to have been somewhat used as a storage room as well. There were a couple of trunks in there, as well as a sewing machine in a corner and a dress dummy. As with the other rooms, the furniture looked run down, but had clearly once been nice.

“Sorry for the clutter,” Hawkeye said, moving the dress dummy into a corner. “Technically this is the guest bedroom but, well, we didn’t exactly have many guests.”

“Its fine, don’t worry about it,” Havoc said, not at all surprised at the lack of guests. “It’s got a bed, and that’s good enough for me.”

She gave him a wane smile, and then opened the package and the two began once again making up the bed. His quilt was different from the other two, looking to be made of flour sacks and with uneven stitching.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “It’s just as warm as the others, but it was the first one I made. I wasn’t very good at it, but it served its purpose.”

“It’s fine,” Havoc said, a little surprised that Riza knew how to quilt. “Did you make the other two later or something?”

Hawkeye shook her head, gathering the paper and string back up. “Those were made by my mother. They only have small repairs done by me.”

“Oh, she teach you?” Havoc asked, curious. Hawkeye never talked about her family.

Hawkeye shook her head. “No,” she said quietly, simply, and he felt like he might have stepped in something again. “She died when I was young. I don’t remember her.”

“Oh, ah… geeze, Riza,” well he felt like a heel now, and brought his hand back to scratch at the back of his head out of guilt. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to just bring it up like that.”

Hawkeye shook her head. “No. It’s alright. You didn’t know and you couldn’t know. It’s nothing to worry about.”

She looked up at him and met his eyes, and for once on this trip he felt like she was being honest about her feelings on this matter. But the moment was quickly over, and she gestured for him to leave, both of them heading back down the stairs.

The rest of the afternoon and evening was filled with the three of them finishing readying the house, settling in, and cooking supper. Havoc learned that there was a bathroom downstairs and one upstairs, a washroom that was under the stairs and near the kitchen, a library that was downstairs, a master bedroom and a study upstairs, an attic, and a basement. He also learned that many of the items that seemed to be missing from the house were sold over the years to keep the place up, and that Riza had kept chickens and a few goats for both food and profit, as well as selling her kill when she went hunting.

He also learned through observation that Mustang had spent quite a bit of time here. He seemed to know where everything was and was nearly as familiar with the house as Hawkeye seemed to be. There was also some sort of history here in this house, not just between Mustang and Hawkeye, but with Hawkeye herself. She was clearly tense, Mustang clearly knew why, but as to what exactly was going on, well, Havoc wasn’t sure. He was, though, beginning to wonder just what Hawkeye’s childhood was like.

The tension was still present between Mustang and Hawkeye. Hawkeye still shied away or outright rejected help or touches from Mustang, and made comments that Havoc knew somehow were digs or barbed comments, but that he lacked the context to understand. Mustang grew more frustrated and exasperated with her as the night wore on, sometimes flinging back a verbal barb himself. By the time the decision was made that they should all just go to bed, the two were clearly irritated with each other again, and Havoc was going to stay well out of it—even if he did note, with interest, that when they went up the stairs for bed, Mustang headed straight for the bedroom that Riza had said was his, with no hesitation whatsoever.

Well, that was going to give him some interesting tidbits to think over tonight.

Just what was he in the middle of?


	3. Part II

**Author:** RealityBreakGirl/aquietlearningcorner/scentedbygunpowder  
 **Word Count:** 11,233  
 **Prompt:** FMA Big Bang 2020  
 **Characters:** Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang, Jean Havoc  
 **Pairing:** Royai  
 **Genre:** Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family  
 **Chapter:** Part II of 5  
Author's Note: Check out the amazing piece that [BlackPilotPen](https://blackpilotpen.tumblr.com/) did for this chapter! [[Link](https://blackpilotpen.tumblr.com/post/626248856096604160/embers-in-a-wounded-heart)]

* * *

**Part II**

Although Havoc was not a farm kid himself, most of his neighbors had been. The store had always opened early, and he had been rustled out of bed to help too. The military hadn’t done much to change that, honestly, and so the next morning he rolled out of bed bright and early. He wasn’t surprised to find that he was the first one up. Mustang was notoriously not a morning person, and Havoc had heard Hawkeye tossing and turning during the night. She had only seemed to settle down after he had heard her get up and move the rusty lock on her door.

He dressed in his uniform pants and an undershirt and pulled on his boots before running his fingers through his hair and ambling as quietly as he could manage downstairs. His first stop was the kitchen, and he rummaged through the cabinets until he found what he knew Hawkeye had to have ordered—coffee. And bless her, it was a big jar of it. A little more rummaging had him finding a coffee pot to clean up and use. He went out to find the wood pile, brought a few pieces in, and set to work stoking the fire in the stove. That done, he cleaned the coffee pot and prepared it. Leaving it on the stove to boil, he went out to check on the horses, making sure they were fed and watered and doing well. They seemed fine, but he’d have to ask Hawkeye about a pasture or such for them.

When he made his way back into the kitchen, Hawkeye was sitting at the table, a cup of coffee already in front of her. She, too, had her uniform pants, boots, and undershirt on. She didn’t have her usual array of guns on, although Havoc had no doubt that she was still armed, and her hair was a bit messy, as if she still needed to brush it. She looked worn down, not rested at all, and he frowned a little at that. Clearly, she hadn’t managed to sleep well, even after she had locked her door.

“Mornin’ Hawkeye,” he said, not too cheerfully lest he risk her wrath. “Ya found the coffee. Good.”

“Mm,” she said. “Yes. Thank you for starting it.”

“Honestly, a day doesn’t start right without it.”

“You can say that again.”

Havoc poured himself a cup, adding a bit of sugar to it. He could take it black like any other military man, but if he had access to sugar, why shouldn’t he add it?

“Checked on the horses,” he said. “I’d like to find some place to let them graze. But I didn’t see a good place to pasture them.”

“Mm…” Hawkeye was quiet for a moment. “There’s no fencing around anymore, but there might be some rope. You might can stake them down or tie them up in the old orchard and let them graze there. But don’t go on the south side of the orchard near the woods. There’s a spring there that feeds a nearby pond a bit off and the ground is very swampy. Sometimes gases get trapped underneath it.”

“Gotcha.” Havoc said trying not to grin. He wasn’t sure if it was being back in the country, or just her being so tired, but he could hear the country seeping back into her speech. “You know the area pretty well, don’t you?”

“Spent a lot of time outside,” she said with a sigh. “It was better than staying inside.”

She stood then and headed to get herself another cup of coffee before working on for breakfast. Havoc sat back and took another drink of his coffee. Sure, lots of country kids would rather stay outside than inside, but there was something in the way she said it that told Havoc there was more to the story than she was letting on.

Still, mornings were not the time to question things too much, especially when they were just waking up. So, he sat there, drinking his coffee and not really thinking about anything while Hawkeye rummaged around and pulled out some food to start breakfast. For a few minutes the only sounds were her rummaging, and the birds outside. Havoc took a breath, and simply enjoyed the moment.

But his Ma hadn’t raised a layabout, and he couldn’t just sit there while Hawkeye was working. “…you need a hand?” he asked, watching as she bustled back and forth in the kitchen. He supposed that he knew she could cook, but it was odd seeing her so domestic.

“No, thank you, I can do it myself,” she responded.

He blinked for a moment, then altered his question. “Okay. But do you want a hand?”

She paused for a moment, then looked back at him. “…If you want to.” She finally said.

Havoc stood up with a stretch, and then moved to help her out, pretty decent himself with the basics of cooking a simple breakfast.

The two worked together pretty well, working on bacon and eggs and toast. Partway during it Mustang stumbled into the kitchen, yawning, and heading straight for the coffee. He blearily looked at them.

“You two need any help?” he asked.

“No, sir,” Hawkeye said, her voice suddenly sharp. “It’s under control.”

It was a quick turnaround in attitude, and it caught Havoc off guard. He glanced back at Mustang, catching the slightly frustrated look on the other man’s face. Somehow, he got the idea that if he left, things wouldn’t improve, so he just gave Mustang a shrug when Hawkeye wasn’t looking and didn’t try to make any excuses. Mustang just shook his head and gave a resigned shrug in return.

Well, at least Mustang wasn’t taking too much offense to it. Or maybe he was just too tired to make a big deal out of it. Whatever it was, Havoc just hoped that it would make some sort of subtle truce that would hold for a bit.

Silence reigned over the kitchen, aside from the needed communication and Havoc found himself wishing that there was a radio in the kitchen so that there was some sort of noise or sound going on. In contrast to his own family’s kitchen, which was usually bustling with life and sounds and smells, something here almost seemed to keep all sound muted. He wasn’t sure if it really was something about how the house was built, or if it was just perception, but it was there, nonetheless, and it made him crave some sort of sound.

Breakfast didn’t take them long to cook, nor did it take long for them to finish it and start another pot of coffee. Mustang didn’t look like he had slept much better than Hawkeye, and Havoc began to wonder if he was the only one who had slept decently, despite that dress form looming over him all night long.

“So,” Havoc finally broke the silence. “What’s the plan for the day?” He noticed Riza tense, but she didn’t say anything, just gave Mustang a hard look.

Mustang ignored it. “We need to search the house from top to bottom, to see if there’s any alchemic research left in it.” He said.

“Alchemic research?” Havoc questioned, a little confused. Then again, a lot about this didn’t make sense. Why were they at the house Hawkeye grew up at for research anyway, alchemic or otherwise?

“Yes,” Mustang said, and he was decidedly _not_ looking at Hawkeye, which struck Havoc as odd. “The captain’s father was my alchemy teacher.”

Havoc stared at the two of them, gobsmacked, that bit of information bringing his thoughts to a screeching halt. There were so many ramifications from that, and his mind tried to grab onto just one so that he could start processing just what this meant and how that changed just about everything. One thought did stand out above the rest, though.

“So—wait. Does that mean that Hawkeye’s father taught you Fla—”

His words were cut off as Hawkeye abruptly stood, her chair scraping loudly against the floor, plate in hand and jaw tight. “I’ll see to the horses,” she said, her voice short as she scraped her plate in the garbage can and put it in the sink. Before Havoc could blink, she was out the door, shoving it open and then forcibly slamming it behind her.

Havoc stared after her for a moment, then turned his attention back to Mustang. He was looking at where Hawkeye had been with an expression that Havoc was familiar with. It was similar to the one that he sometimes found Mustang looking at him with: an expression of guilt coupled with the knowledge that nothing could be changed, just accepted.

Havoc had no idea what to do.

The expression passed quickly, and Mustang stood up too, although less abruptly. “Let’s get the kitchen cleaned up,” he said.

“Yessir.”

The current revelation ran around his head as the two of them worked. Havoc may not have been the smartest man on earth, or even on the team, but even he realized that this shifted perspective on a lot of things.

This explained why Mustang and Hawkeye were so close. He always knew that they knew each other in Ishval, but he thought that was where they had met. Apparently, they knew each other before that. Way before that. How far back, though? He remembered hearing Riza talk about her “father’s apprentice” back at the Academy, and it had always seemed like she had known him since she was pretty young. Ten, eleven maybe? Before she was a teenager, anyway. She had even said that he was the reason she had joined the military. There had always been something in her voice as well, something that had made Catalina swear up and down that whoever this boy was, he was clearly Hawkeye’s first love. And then there was the flame alchemy—

Havoc shook his head, needing to put all of this in order. It changed so much! But before he could, the door scraped open again and he looked up from where he was drying the last dish. Hawkeye was back and Havoc was pretty sure that questions and distractions would not be a good thing right now. Or maybe ever, if he was honest with himself.

Her eyes swept over the two of them, and there was challenge in her eyes. It was a challenge that Havoc wasn’t going to rise to.

“Are the horses alright?” Mustang asked, breaking the silence.

“Yes, sir,” she said. “I knew a good place to tie them up and let them graze.”

“Good. Be sure to go back and check on them later.”

“Of course, I will.”

There was something else in the conversation, something that Havoc didn’t know what was, but something in Hawkeye shifted for a moment. Mustang’s eyes met hers, and for a moment, they just stared at each other. It was one of those silent conversations that Havoc just didn’t have the context for, and that there was no point in trying to figure out, honestly. The two of them just had too much history for him to be able to interpret it--more history then Havoc had ever suspected, apparently.

As suddenly as it had begun, the moment was over. Havoc put down the last dish with a quiet exhalation, and Mustang let the water out of the sink, drying his hands on the dishtowel. “Alright. We need to get down to the reason that we came here.” Suddenly both Mustang and Hawkeye were all business, and Havoc felt himself straightening in response. “Captain. If your father had any notes left, where would he have hidden them?”

There was a weird tightening of Hawkeye’s shoulders, and suddenly the anger was reignited in her eyes. “It wasn’t as if he ever told me where he planned to put his notes. _Sir_.”

There was a definite bite in the response, and it was undisguised. Havoc’s head snapped over her way in shock. It seemed completely out of character for the normally stoic woman.

Motion caught Havoc’s eye and he turned his attention back towards Mustang. The man had drawn himself up, stiff, and was, Havoc could see, clearly angry.

Whatever had just happened was a landmine, and Havoc could only hope that it didn’t blow while he was in the room. Whatever this was between them, it was dangerous. If it went off, Havoc had the uncomfortable feeling it would cause a lot of damage that might be irreparable.

He couldn’t believe he was about to do this, but Havoc took his own life in his hands, and spoke up.

“Seems to me that the study or the library would make the most sense, at least to start looking,” he said. “Might be obvious, but we’ve gotta start somewhere. Either that, or maybe a top down approach? Start at the attic and go down to the basement, then out to the outbuildings?”

The tension eased slightly, and Havoc thanked every god he had ever heard of that he hadn’t been shot or roasted—or both.

“That would be better than looking piecemeal,” Roy admitted.

Hawkeye stiffly turned away from them. “I’ll get us some lamps for the attic.”

Hawkeye was back momentarily with the lamps and the process of pouring the oil in and lighting them helped to distract from the previous tension. To get to the attic, they had to head up the back stairs which were, as Mustang had warned Havoc, rickety. There was a small door off of the back stairs that led up to it, although the door was stuck from disuse, and Havoc ended up having to get it open for them.

The attic was not the biggest one Havoc had ever seen, and he had to stoop a bit, the roofline not far from Mustang’s head. He honestly wasn’t sure that anyone but Riza would be able to get into the furthest reaches of it, especially with all of the stuff in it. It had chests and trunks, old pieces of furniture, frames and decorations—and lots of dust. Hawkeye made her way over to a window to try to let some air in while Mustang surveyed the cramped space.

“We’ll have to look in every part of everything,” he said. “Every trunk, every chest, every piece of furniture, and everything that’s in the trunks and chests.”

“The walls, floor, and ceiling too, sir,” Riza said, looking down at something. “There’s plenty of hidden space here.”

Mustang frowned. “That’s true. It also makes things more difficult. I don’t want to dismantle the house.”

Hawkeye snorted, but Havoc had the feeling that it was more about the idea of dismantling the house than it was any sort of jab at Mustang himself.

“What about your alchemy?” Havoc asked, trying to keep the plan going.

“What about it?” Mustang asked.

“Well, you can do that clapping kind now, right? Like the Elrics did. Can you just clap and transmute the wall to see on the inside of it and then transmute it back?”

Mustang blinked at him for a moment, and then considered. “I don’t know. Let me try.”

“If you mess anything up, you’re paying to fix it,” Hawkeye shot back.

A slight look of irritation crossed Mustang’s face, but he stared at the wall for a moment. His irritations faded, and instead he gained a look of concentration on his face. For a moment, he did nothing, and then he clapped his hands together and touched the wall. The wood in it lifted up, showing the inner wall—and whatever was crumbling in it.

Mustang jumped back with a look of disgust on his face. “What is that?” he asked.

Havoc leaned close. “Looks like stuff that was used for insulation.” He looked over at Mustang and Hawkeye. “That could be a problem, if it’s like that throughout the house.”

Mustang was looking at it as if he were considering his options. “Fullmetal would just find a way to improve it. The problem is, I’m not sure what it is.”

“Can’t you just clap it into something?” Havoc asked.

Mustang shook his head. “It’s better to know what the material is first, so I know what I’m working with. Although Fullmetal managed on the fly. I wonder…” Mustang trailed off, a look of concentration on his face, and Havoc shrugged to himself. Whatever he was thinking now was far beyond Havoc’s ilk.

“Havoc. Come help me.”

Havoc looked up from Mustang and focused on Hawkeye, who had moved to one side of the attic, moving a few items around.

“Sure.” He made his way over to her, having to be careful not to hit head on the rafters as he walked. “Whatcha need?”

“We need to look through everything,” she said. “While the general is over there trying to figure out alchemy, we need to start looking. Help me move this trunk and look through it.”

“What, exactly, are we looking for?” he asked her as he grabbed a handle on the side of the trunk, still not sure what exactly these alchemy notes would look like.

That odd stiffness returned to Hawkeye, and he noted with interest it seemed to happen in reference to her father’s alchemy notes the most. Did Hawkeye have some sort of bad relationship with her father and alchemy? There was something going on here for sure.

“You know the basics of what alchemy looks like, don’t you?” she asked him as she grabbed the other handle.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “The circles and some of the information. Kinda have to when you’re around alchemists as much as we’ve been.” They lifted the trunk enough that they would have room to open the lid.

“Then look for anything that has that on it.” Her hands ran over the trunk, finding and releasing the latch.

“Like papers and stuff?” Havoc asked.

Riza paused, stiff, the trunk’s lid half lifted, and not facing him. “…anything.” She said. “My father… has been known to keep notes in unconventional places.”

Her voice was tight, with an undercurrent of anger, and it felt dangerous. Havoc swallowed, not sure where to go from here.

“Hey! I got it!”

Mustang’s voice broke the moment, and Havoc looked over his shoulder to see Mustang with a decent piece of insulation in the open part of the wall and looking particularly pleased with himself.

“Good for you, sir,” he said. “Gonna reinsulate the whole house now?”

Mustang gave him an irritated look, opened his mouth and hesitated, his eyebrows drawing together. Havoc blinked at him. Was he actually considering reinsulating the whole house?

Before Havoc could make any sort of comment, Riza interrupted them both. “You work on that, sir. Havoc and I will take care of the rest.”

There was clearly no room for argument, so Havoc resigned himself to a day full of searching for notes that he didn’t understand in places that he wouldn’t have normally considered.

He hoped he was getting paid overtime for this.

Hawkeye was, apparently, in no mood for talking, not that Havoc was surprised. With Mustang concentrating on the walls, and Hawkeye directing Havoc, he soon was deep in searching through the contents of trunks, for secret compartments on furniture, and for any other imaginable hiding place. Clothes, shoes, hats, bags, every layer was examined. Holiday decorations, baby things, photographs and paintings, journals and notebooks, old dishes, keepsakes and knickknacks, they were all gone through carefully, looking for hidden places and secret compartments. The trunks themselves and the pieces of furniture were all examined thoroughly, searching for hidden places and pockets. Mustang worked diligently on the floors, walls and ceilings, looking for hidden places.

(and if the walls and floors looked a little better when he transmuted them back into place, well, Havoc wasn’t going to say anything)

They took a break for lunch, which was just sandwiches that they could rustle up quickly, and Havoc went out to check on the horses, needing to straighten up from the cramped attic. Unfortunately for his back, it didn’t take long before they were all back to work again. By the time the sun was going down, they had searched the attic and come up with nothing but a coating of dust.

Havoc wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or not that the work had kept them so busy that there hadn’t been time for talking about the things in the attic. On one hand, it kept most things from devolving into more of that hostile tension. On the other hand, Havoc couldn’t help but feel like there were missed opportunities in not talking about things that they found.

One thing he did know, though, was that they were all dirty and they were all hungry.

“There’s not much hot water,” Hawkeye said as they came down the stairs. “If we’re quick, two people might be able to get a shower before it runs out. The other will either have to wait, get a cold shower, or go down to the pond. That water should still be decently warm.”

Havoc made a face. “So, two of us, huh? Wanna play for who gets out?”

“Personally, I think it should be done by rank,” Mustang said.

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense,” Havoc said. “So, you’re obviously going to sacrifice for your men, right? Being the higher rank and responsible for our well-being and all.”

“That’s not—” Mustang began, working into a rant.

Hawkeye interrupted them. “I’ll go to the pond.” She said, already starting to move passed them. That stopped both men mid semi-fake argument. She seemed to take their lull as a reason to continue. “I need to wash my hair, and that will take far too much hot water. You two can use the water here, and I’ll take care of things at the pond.”

She was already walking past them, when Mustang reached out, grabbing her by the arm. “No, Hawkeye you can’t—” he cut off at her glare.

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do in my own house, Roy Mustang.” She hissed out, jerking her arm out of his grasp. “I’ve bathed in that pond more than a few times—I’m sure you remember.”

Normally Havoc would have taken that to mean some sort of embarrassing story, possibly involving Mustang catching Hawkeye bathing and Hawkeye shooting him, but there was something else in her voice, and something about the way that Mustang stopped that made Havoc wonder just what it was about.

There were way too many weird undertones with these two lately, and it was, quite frankly, giving Havoc a headache.

“I dunno, Riza, it seem ungentlemanly of us to make you go off to the pond to bathe,” Havoc said, scratching his chin. “And I’m pretty sure Catalina’d kill me if she knew you went to a pond to bathe while I took a warm shower.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “Let us go. I need to stretch my legs anyway, and I’m guessing that the general here could show me the way.”

They both sort of hesitated, but then Hawkeye, her jaw working, finally nodded. “Fine. Let me get you some supplies. I’ll meet you back down here.”

She disappeared and Mustang sagged just slightly in relief. “Thanks, Havoc,” he said.

Havoc grinned at him. “You owe me one, sir. And I’ll expect you to pay up eventually.” He ambled off then to go find clean clothes to change into. These were dusty enough they’d probably have to be washed, and he had no idea how that would be handled here.

It shouldn’t have taken Havoc by surprise at all that Hawkeye had thought ahead and ordered a second set of items for bathing, knowing that this would happen, and within a few minutes Havoc and Mustang were ambling through the near dark towards the pond, clean clothes, soap and shampoo with them.

It was a pretty walk, with the trees and an overgrown forest path. Havoc could see several different kinds of plants growing, and a part of him itched to dig them up and take them back so his Ma could have them. He saw signs of plenty of animals too and thought that this would be great hunting ground. He was pretty sure that Riza had hunted when she was young. He wondered if this was the same path she had travelled down.

Mustang, in contrast to Havoc’s own enjoyment and relaxation, was anything but relaxed. He didn’t seem to enjoy the outdoors, and he got more and more tense the further away from the house they got. It was clear that he just wanted to get this over with and get back to the house as quickly as possible—or, Havoc figured, he wanted to get back to _Hawkeye_ as quickly as possible.

The pond was in a small clearing, forest on one side, and field on the other. There was a small, shoddy dock built, and reeds in the edges of the water. It didn’t look to be too snaky, which Havoc was glad about. He didn’t want to die after getting bit by a snake while bathing in a cow pond—or sheep pond, or whatever kind of animal drank from it.

They stripped down quickly enough, getting into the water and leaving their clothes and supplies on the dock. The water was colder than Havoc would have liked, but it wasn’t terrible.

“Kinda glad we’re the ones that came out here,” Havoc said, dipping down further in the water. “It’s more exposed then I’d like for Hawkeye to be.”

“It’s private land all around here.” Mustang was reaching for the soap, so Havoc stayed partially submerged in the water. “No one should be out here, so she should have been safe.” His words and tone were casual, but Havoc could hear the tension underneath them.

“Should, yeah,” Havoc said. “But I went plenty of places I shouldn’t have as a kid. Ponds in the middle of land that’s practically been abandoned sound like a great place to go.” He took a breath, and dunked his head under the water, letting his hair get wet before he stood back up, most of his upper body out of the water, and shook his head. “Hawkeye said she’d bathed out here before. They not have running water when she was a kid or something?”

Roy seemed to tense at the question, and Havoc noticed it. “No,” he finally said. “They had all the plumbing that was needed. But the hot water was limited, and sometimes this was better for her.” Mustang dunked himself under the water, and Havoc reached for the soap.

There was definitely a story in that, he thought, as he started to soap up, but it didn’t seem like the funny kind. Mustang came up with a gasp, and reached for the shampoo, and not much else was said between the two men as they finished bathing and dressed. Hawkeye was out of the shower by the time they got back, and already working on supper. Havoc took care of the horses while Mustang put their things away and set their clothes to soak in the wash tub. By the time all of that was finished, Hawkeye had supper ready and they sat down to eat. All of them were pretty weary, which cut down on just about all conversation. After supper was finished and the kitchen was cleaned, they all made their way towards bed, with no one suggesting they do anything else. They were just too tired.

But Havoc didn’t fall asleep right away. He laid in his bed, gazing up at the ceiling, a toothpick between his teeth (bless Hawkeye and remembering that he was trying to cut back on his cigarettes). This house, this place, felt full of memories. It was like they weighed it down. Everything Hawkeye and Mustang did, everything they said, and everywhere they went seemed to have some sort of memory attached to it. There was a history here, a heavy one. And Havoc would lay dollars to donuts that it had everything to do with why Hawkeye was so upset with Mustang.

It wasn’t a mystery he was going to solve, though, and Havoc flicked his toothpick into the ashtray Hawkeye had stuck in his room, rolled over, and went to sleep.

The next morning dawned bright and early, and Havoc and Hawkeye were the first ones up. Just like the morning before, after putting on the coffee, Hawkeye started breakfast and Havoc checked on the horses. Mustang came down a little later, still yawning, and asked if he could help Hawkeye. She gave him a sharp retort that Havoc was sure had a double meaning and they ate their food in the silence of those not quite yet awake.

It was after breakfast when the day really began. Another day of searching for hidden alchemy notes wasn’t exactly something that Havoc was looking forward to, but it was the general plan. With the attic finished, it was onto the second floor. The three bedrooms, the bathroom, the master bedroom, the study, and the hallway itself were the rooms on this floor. They needed to be searched, hopefully all by today. It would be another day of hard work, but Havoc was glad that he could at least stand up straight here, as opposed to the attic.

“So? Where do we start?” he asked, looking at both of them curiously. That tension seemed to rise between then again, along with some silent communication.

“The Master bedroom,” Hawkeye finally said. Mustang looked as if he wanted to say something, but she cut him off with a look. “If that’s alright with you, General.”

Roy looked back at her, an expression of irritation settling on his face. “Yes, of course, Captain. But I’m sure that Lieutenant Havoc and I can handle it and the study.”

“With all due respect, sir, you’ll be focused on the walls and floor again. Havoc and I can take on the rest of the room together. It’ll cut our time.” Hawkeye said, clearly not happy with the idea of being dismissed from searching the master bedroom.

“Perhaps so,” Mustang said. “But if you search another room that will also make the search go faster.”

“I disagree, sir,” she said, her voice tight. “Because some of that furniture is heavy. Either I will need help moving furniture and will call you or Havoc away from your search, or you will need me to help move furniture and call me away from my search.”

Mustang wasn’t backing down. “Captain. I can make this an order.”

Neither was Hawkeye. “And I can kick you out of my house, sir.”

Hawkeye’s entire posture was one of resolute stubbornness, but it felt like she was teetering on the precipice of something. Mustang looked frustrated, angry, and his jaw was set too.

“Fine,” he finally said, whirling back towards the master bedroom. “If this is how you want it, Captain.”

“I do, sir.” She bit back, following him in.

“….hoo boy. What I wouldn’t give for the distraction of Hayate now,” Havoc muttered.

“Havoc!”

“Coming, sir!”

The master bedroom was neat and tidy, but there was a tightness to Hawkeye that the room itself didn’t seem to have a reason to cause. Havoc didn’t question it, though, just kept an eye on her as they worked. It was odd, actually, to see Hawkeye this emotional. Oh, she wasn’t emotional as if she were crying, or clinging to something. But it was obvious that she was emotional, and that she was trying her best to keep her emotions under control. It seemed that everything about this room was pushing her a little more and a little more towards a loss of control, though. She was winding tighter and tighter as they went through the closet, the dresser, the chest-of-drawers, and every personal object that was contained in the room.

Mustang was keeping a close eye on her too, Havoc could tell. He honestly wasn’t sure if Hawkeye could or not. Normally, yes, she would notice right away. But with as tightly as she was wound, Havoc wasn’t sure what she was noticing and what she wasn’t. The bed was the last thing that they examined, and by that time Havoc was eyeing Hawkeye and wondering if he should say anything. He was on the edge of it when Mustang spoke up instead.

“Captain. Havoc and I will move this back. I think we could all use something to drink.”

Hawkeye’s jaw tightened. “Sir, I—”

Mustang cut her off. “Just some water or something else. We’ve been working a while, it’s not going to hurt us.” Hawkeye didn’t move. “That’s an order, Captain,” he said.

Hawkeye dropped the pillow on the bed the same ways she didn’t slam doors—meaning that she didn’t actually slam it down, but somehow it came off that way anyway. “Yes, sir,” she ground out, and turned with military precision to leave the room.

Havoc didn’t move and waited until he was sure that Hawkeye wouldn’t be able to hear them. “General…” he started hesitantly. “Is she—”

“Her father died in this room,” Mustang said abruptly. “She had been caring for him, but I was with him when he died. She walked in right after.”

For a moment, Havoc said nothing, but it did make the way that she was reacting more understandable. “I see, sir.” There was silence for a moment more. “Well, should we move the bed back?”

Mustang stirred then, looking up at Havoc. “Yeah. And then we can mark this room as finished. We’ll go to my room next.”

“Yessir.”

Havoc worked with Mustang to set the room back to rights, and then the men made their way down the stairs for a stretch and a break. Hawkeye had already sat out some glasses and poured them some lemonade. Mustang looked at it questioningly.

“Mrs. Nelson sent it with the supplies,” she said without preamble.

“Ah.” Mustang sat down at the table and pulled a glass to himself.

Havoc didn’t sit down yet, stretching and shaking out his legs a bit. “Mrs. Nelson?” he said. “Is she the wife of the man who owns the general store?”

“Yes,” Hawkeye replied. “She’s a kind woman.”

“Yeah?” Havoc asked, finally pulling out a chair and sitting down.

Mustang snorted into his glass. “She always made sure any of the kids around were behaving,” he said. “No one acted up around her. She gave me directions to this house when I arrived in town.” He made a face. “She fussed over me and called me a city boy.”

Hawkeye sat down too. “You were a city boy, sir. You still are,” she said. “But she was always getting onto the children. I knew that if I needed to wait things out, I could hang around there. And she’d give me some food sometimes when she saw me walking back from the bookshop to the school at lunch time.” She paused. “I’m not surprised that she sent along a few extra things on the wagon.”

“Seems like a nice lady,” Havoc said.

“Yes, well.” Hawkeye stood abruptly, taking her glass with her. “She did what she could.” She quickly drank the rest of it and sat about washing her glass.

Mustang let out a quiet sigh in his glass, and Havoc took note of a look of guilt that crossed his face. What was that about? It sounded like Hawkeye and her dad had it difficult with money, but why would he feel guilty about that? Or was that even what he was feeling guilty about? Was it something to do with that “waiting things out” Hawkeye had said (which, he thought was kind of dubious. Just what was she waiting out? And why did it sound like a common occurrence?) Or was he feeling guilty because Hawkeye—it sounded like—went hungry sometimes as a child, and he wished that she hadn’t had to?

It was another piece to this weird puzzle he had, and to be honest, Havoc wasn’t sure that he’d ever have all the pieces.

Mustang tilted his glass back and drained the rest of his lemonade out of it, and Havoc did too, figuring he better follow suit.

“Come on. We should get back to work.”

The three of them went back up the stairs and started in on the bedroom that Mustang was staying in—or, as Havoc noticed both of them called it, Mustang’s bedroom, as if he had already had ownership of it. Then again, if he had stayed here to learn alchemy from Hawkeye’s dad, Havoc supposed this just might have been his bedroom.

Once again, they took it apart bit by bit, examining every part of the room. Nothing of note was found, except for some papers wedged under a board that neither Hawkeye or Mustang would let him look at. He couldn’t help but notice that they both seemed a bit embarrassed about them, and filed that away for later teasing. They finished the room quickly and moved onto Hawkeye’s room, although Havoc couldn’t help but notice that in his transmutations of the floor, to look for hidden notes, Mustang didn’t transmute the burn marks away.

They went to Hawkeye’s room next, which, admittedly, left Havoc a little uneasy. Maybe it was just because it was a woman’s room, or maybe it was because he was her room, but it felt like a violation somehow. Mustang was stiff, and it only took a glance at him to tell that he felt similarly.

Havoc took pains not to look through her things, mostly sticking to checking out the furniture itself while Mustang took care of the floor and ceiling. Hawkeye, likewise, was protective of her privacy, looking through her items on her own. The only time she broke with that was when Mustang got near to a couple of places on her floor. At those places she pulled the floorboards up herself, looking through what seemed to be an eclectic collection of things that she didn’t let either man get a good look at. Havoc didn’t push. Her privacy was her privacy.

He did notice one particular item that seemed to have fallen into Mustang’s hands, and Havoc couldn’t help but note that the rabbit looked a little better when they left than it had looked when they had first come in.

From there they moved from there to the bedroom Havoc was using, which was full of a bunch of odds and ends. It took them a little longer to get through it all, but by now they had the rhythm of searching down. Truth be told, it didn’t take them near as long as it could have. Still, they turned up nothing, and, when they finished, they all sat there, a bit tired.

“What do you all say to some lunch?” Mustang said, a bit weary sounding.

“I think it sound fantastic,” Havoc said. “I think anything that means a break and involves food sounds fantastic.”

“There are leftovers from supper last night in the refrigerator,” Hawkeye said. “We can reheat them in the oven.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Mustang agreed, and the three of them drug themselves downstairs.

Lunch didn’t take long, although it was filling. It wasn’t relaxing, though. It was clear that Hawkeye was still very much on guard, every little move or twitch noticed. It was almost as if she were waiting for something to happen. However, unlike missions where she was waiting for something specific, now it was almost as if she were waiting for anything to happen. And although Mustang was acting as if things were normal, it was still obvious to Havoc that he was worried about Hawkeye, and that she was still not receptive to it.

They went back upstairs after lunch, just the bathroom and the study left. The bathroom wasn’t big, and so they took care of it fairly quickly, although the plumbing did make a few things a bit more difficult. Fortunately, the old pipes were very sturdy and held up well to clumsy soldiers and alchemists. The study was the only room left after that, and both Mustang and Hawkeye seemed on edge about it.

To Havoc’s eye, it seemed like a fairly typical study, only with lots of alchemy references on the walls, and books that were directly related to high level alchemy sitting around. He had almost expected something messy, but it honestly seemed rather well organized actually. They started the routine again, only this time with books included. Havoc hoped that they had actually found something when he came across some alchemy notes stuffed under a drawer. Hawkeye, however, dismissed some of them right away as “too basic” (which actually surprised Havoc. He didn’t realize that Hawkeye knew anything about alchemy, to be honest) and the rest Mustang looked through, examining for clues and ultimately disregarding. It was the only thing they found and searching through the study took much more time than Havoc had thought it would. He was ready to be done with it by the time the sun was setting.

Unfortunately, there was still quite a mess in the study. There were papers everywhere, books still to be put away, and furniture to be moved back. They were all tired, but Hawkeye was looking particularly exhausted, Havoc couldn’t help but note. She seemed a bit pale, and a bit more withdrawn. There was an exhaustion starting to play on her face, and Havoc wondered if maybe she needed to sit down.

“It’s getting late,” Mustang said, looking at the setting sun out of the window. “We should call it. Captain, why don’t you go see about dinner? Havoc and I will get the room back in order.”

“It’ll go faster with three sets of hands, sir.” Hawkeye said back.

“And supper will be later.” Mustang pointed out.

“Sir, there’s a lot of work here to be put back—”

“Which will mean that you’ll have plenty of time in the kitchen without us getting in your way.” Mustang cut her off.

“Sir, I—”

“Captain.” His voice was firm. “You know as well as I do that you don’t want me near your cooking. And you know how to work that stove better than either of us. We can do this. But we can’t do that. You can.”

She stared at him for a moment, and then with a long breath and a sharp exhale, left, heading towards the stairs and down to the kitchen.

Havoc turned at stared at Mustang. “Did—did you just tell Hawkeye to get back to the kitchen?”

“I gave her a task,” Mustang said, glowering at him. “And besides, she needed to leave. Nothing good is attached to this place.” He looked down at the paper he held in his hand, and then pulled out a glove. “Nothing good.” He snapped, and Havoc watched as the paper burned, wondering what had been on it.

The men were silent after that, as they cleaned up the study. Hawkeye had a good supper going when they made their way downstairs. After supper Havoc once again tended to the horses, Mustang worked on the dishes, and Hawkeye took the time to attend to the dirty uniforms from the day before. It had, once again, been a long day, and, after taking turns for the shower, it wasn’t long before they were all in bed.

Havoc could hear Hawkeye lock her door immediately, but he was aware of her restlessness, and couldn’t help but wonder as he was drifting off to sleep, if he was hearing her tears as well.

The next day arrived bright and early, just like the day before. They had fallen into a routine, with Hawkeye and Havoc up almost with the sun, Havoc tending to the horses, and Hawkeye working on breakfast. Mustang stumbled down the stairs later and they all ate a very quiet and somewhat tense breakfast. After that, it was time to get to work.

This time their goal was the downstairs, or at least as much of it as they could get to that day. It contained a well-stocked library and Havoc was not looking forward to looking through all of those books. It had taken long enough with the books in the study yesterday. The library would only take longer.

“Where do we start today?” Havoc asked when they finished cleaning up from breakfast.

Mustang looked around the room and shrugged. “Well, why not start here? We’ll have to go through it eventually anyway.”

It was a good enough reason as any, and they started, making their way through every dish, cabinet, appliance and piece of furniture in the kitchen with no success, unless you count a few snacks eaten on Havoc’s end of things successful. He certainly did. The dining room was next, and the process was repeated, with the exception of the dishes in the china hutch being handled very carefully.

“Nice china,” Havoc said, taking the time to look at pieces he unwrapped. They were white, with hand-painted yellow and pink roses decorating them, and a smooth finish over that.

“Not really,” Hawkeye said. “There’s a lot that’s nicer. But it was my mother’s.”

“Well its nice enough,” Havoc said. He peered at the bowl that held the broken piece. “What happened to this one?”

Havoc could see Mustang tense a bit, but interestingly Hawkeye’s tension over it was minimal.

“I broke it,” she said. “I was about five or so, and wanted to look at it, but I broke it. Father wasn’t happy with me. It was the first thrashing I got.”

“The what?” The casual way she said it startled Havoc.

“I should have left it alone,” she said. “I didn’t realize how clumsy I was.” She frowned, reaching in and picked up a piece. “I have no idea why father didn’t fix it. But I never touched any of it again. Not until I was much older.”

She turned to get back to work, and Havoc stared at her for a moment. The thrashing could have just been a turn of phrase, and not meant literally. A look at Mustang made him doubt that. Havoc carefully put the bowl holding the pieces down and filed that information away to add to the puzzle.

The dining room was a bust, as was the sitting room after it. Havoc did discover that the piano was horribly out of tune, and Riza had never used it, which was interesting, but not important to their search. They broke for lunch after that. It was a quick affair, again, as all of them wanted to get this search over and done with, although it seemed as if it were for different reasons.

Havoc watched Hawkeye and Mustang as they continued to search the hallway, the washroom, the bathroom, the living room, and got started on the library. Hawkeye was still going through the process diligently and thoroughly, but she was tense and angry at Mustang. She responded to him with his rank, and with “sirs” and not once by his first name, something she would have more than likely done even with Havoc there under normal circumstances.

It wasn’t as if it was a secret that she and the General cared deeply for each other. If she had been calling him Roy this whole time and they snuggled up in the same room at night, Havoc wouldn’t have blinked an eye. But instead she was cold and standoffish towards him. There was an underlying anger in being here, almost a betrayal.

Mustang, likewise, was not happy with Hawkeye. He wasn’t calling her by her name either, just her rank and last name. He obviously wasn’t happy about bringing her back here, but he was also frustrated with how she kept freezing him out. Mustang was also worried about her, Havoc could tell.

It felt like every day the tension was building. Only while it was building between them, it also felt like it was leading them closer to something. Havoc just didn’t know what that something was. He was honestly a little afraid to find out.

The sun was starting to set again when they decided to call it quits for the day. They were all tired and discouraged by then, and Hawkeye clearly unhappy about something to do with the library. Or at least, that’s what Havoc thought it was. But whatever it was, it left dinner a tense affair and Havoc wasn’t sure if any sleep that they got would be restful or not. Or, well, at least not when it came to Hawkeye and Mustang. He was going to do his best to sleep just fine. Whatever problem his commanding officers had, he couldn’t do anything about it.

However, sleep didn’t come easily to him that night. Hawkeye’s words wouldn’t get out of his head. _“Father wasn’t happy with me. It was the first thrashing I got.”_ The first? As in there was more than one? A frown formed on his lips as he laid there and considered everything.

She obviously wasn’t happy about being back here. The house was uncared for, things had been sold for money, and Mustang had come as an apprentice. He knew Hawkeye had been hunting since she was a young girl and knew how to find food in the wild. She could make a meal out of almost anything. She was extremely frugal, not wasting anything if she could help it, and repaired almost everything instead of buying something new. She had said that there hadn’t always been water in the house as well, and there was almost no electricity to the house. The items that were in it were obviously old or worn. Money had obviously been a problem. Had Hawkeye grown up in poverty? Had she spent nights hungry, not had clothes and things that she needed?

But the library and study were well taken care of, well stocked, with newer books in them. Her father was an alchemist, and Havoc had been around enough alchemists to know that they often got obsessive about things. Could her father have been obsessive about alchemy to the point that he neglected his daughter?

It was possible.

But there was more to it. Havoc was sure of it. That comment about the thrashing, Mustang’s reaction, Hawkeye’s non-reaction. The way Hawkeye was tense as if she were expecting something, anything to happen. How on edge she seemed to be. Even outside of this place, Hawkeye always did take any hits without really reacting to them, just getting up and moving on with what she had to do. She was even the best of them at tending to injuries, never fully explaining how she had such good skills. Had Hawkeye been abused as a child? Had she had to tend to her own injuries? Had she been through that, alone, before Mustang had come?

It was also possible.

Havoc rolled over in his bed, uneasy at these possibilities. He always knew that Hawkeye had some sort of past, and that she had grown up at least a bit sheltered from the world. But the possibility of it being worse than that left him with a twisting, sinking feeling, and he resolved to watch Hawkeye a bit closer the next day.

The next day began as all of the others did, and Havoc didn’t expect them to begin any other way at this point, even if he hadn’t slept well after his late-night thoughts. The routine had been established by now. Coffee started by him, checking on the horses, coming back in to find Hawkeye cooking, Mustang coming down a bit later, and then they all got to work again. Today they went back to the library, working their way through the rest of it, stopping only for lunch. It was late afternoon when they finally finished, and the last book was closed and shelved. Once again, it was a fruitless endeavor, and Havoc was beginning to feel like this was just a huge waste of time.

“Well, that only leaves one more place inside,” Havoc said. “We can probably get started on the basement at least.”

There was a pause and, when neither of his COs replied, he looked between them for a moment. Both of them stood stiffly, but Hawkeye was obviously pale. She had been getting a little more so as the day had gone on, and Havoc was a little worried about her.

“…I suppose we can,” Mustang said. “Captain—”

“I’ll get you lanterns,” she said, cutting him off. “I’ll be back.”

She left, and Havoc looked after her curiously. It didn’t escape his notice that she had said that she would get _them_ lanterns, not that she would get lanterns for _all_ of them. It sounded like she wasn’t going down there with them, and he wasn’t exactly sure why. But it concerned him.

Mustang was looking after where she had left, his jaw tight, his gaze set. Havoc couldn’t even begin to guess what was going through his mind, but he doubted that the general was having any good feelings. Mustang glanced at Havoc as if calculating something, and then took a heavy breath. “Come on,” he said. “We’ll wait in front of the door.”

The door to the basement was not far. It was a heavy looking door with a lock on it, and Havoc had to wonder why the door needed that kind of lock from the outside. Mustang reached to unlock it, and Hawkeye appeared, still pale, with two oil lamps lit and in her hands.

“Here,” she said. “You’ll need these.”

Havoc reached and took one even as Roy took the other. “Not one for you?” Havoc asked.

A look passed through Riza’s eyes, one that, if Havoc had to put a name to it, would be terror. It was gone, quickly, as were most emotions that Hawkeye wanted to hide, but it still startled him.

“I think it’d be best if the Captain went ahead and started on dinner,” Mustang said. “We could use a hearty meal today.”

Mustang looked at Hawkeye. Havoc couldn’t read what went on between them, but Hawkeye finally gave a nod, and glanced over at Havoc for a second. “Yes, sir,” she said, her voice tight, brittle.

She took a step back from them, a very quick step, as if she were distancing herself from danger. With a final look at her, Mustang opened the door and headed down the steps. Havoc turned to flash a smile back at Hawkeye, but all he could see was her paleness, and the way her breathing seemed to have picked up.

He opened his mouth to say something. “Havoc!” Mustang interrupted him, and, with a bit of a smile back at her, he hurried after Mustang and down into the basement.

The basement wasn’t as big as the house, but it still had plenty of room in it. Plenty of room that seemed to be filled with things. Havoc had expected the usual things that people kept in basements: dried food, maybe some alcohol, shelves with tools and the like, boxes for storage. That wasn’t what this basement was like at all. It was more like a laboratory, and for some reason it sent the willies through him. Bottles of chemicals lined shelves. Items that Havoc knew were common in alchemic formulas sat on them too. There was a large table with an overhead lamp hanging above it. A cot was nearby, with a pillow and blanket half-wadded on it.

“Well this is inviting,” he said, trying to shake the creeps he was feeling, and failing. Honestly, it reminded him a bit of being back in that lab, when Solaris came out of a doorway and revealed herself to them--and then paralyzed him. He shuddered a bit and looked around, ignoring the ache in his back and legs. There was no other way in or out of this room, so he didn’t have to worry about that at least. “Where should I start?” he asked.

Mustang was looking around the room, anger burning in his eyes, which Havoc was not expecting. He didn’t seem angry that Hawkeye wasn’t with them, but Havoc didn’t see anything down here that might spark that kind of anger in the man. “Over there,” Mustang said, gesturing to a wall of ingredients. “Start there.”

“You got it,” Havoc said, turning to get started. He could hear Mustang working in other parts of the room, and they settled in to work.

Or, at least, Havoc tried too. Mustang was hyper aware of everything he was doing for some reason, and kept steering him away from different areas, setting him searching through things or areas that were fairly innocuous and obviously didn’t have anything hidden in them. Finally, after Havoc had commented on the odd rings in the large table, Mustang sent him out, told him to go up stairs and check on Hawkeye.

Havoc shrugged, and headed up the stairs, more than glad to get out of that basement and shake the uneasy feeling off of himself. He emerged into low light streaming into the hallway. The sun was setting by this point, and Havoc stretched. Maybe if he was lucky, Mustang would call it for the day, and he wouldn’t have to go back down there tonight.

And then Havoc froze. It suddenly occurred to him that something wasn’t right, and he stopped, listening.

The house was silent.

There were no sounds of cooking coming from the kitchen.

Havoc immediately went on alert, reaching for the small gun that he had kept on him, because he was just as paranoid as Hawkeye was. “Riza?” he called, listening. There was no answer. He cautiously made his way to the kitchen, peering in. The kitchen was cold and empty. There weren’t even signs of a meal being started. “Riza?” he called again. Still no answer.

Telling himself not to jump to conclusions, Havoc checked the washroom and the bathroom, but she wasn’t there either. There were no signs of her. There were no signs of foul play, either, which was good, but it didn’t alleviate his concern.

Havoc made his way back to the door to the basement. “Boss,” he called down. “You wanna get up here.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Mustang was coming up the stairs, taking in Havoc’s posture and pulling on his gloves. “What’s happened?” he asked.

“Hawkeye’s missing,” he said. “There’s no sign of her. There’s also no signs of foul play. But it doesn’t even look like she started supper.”

Mustang cursed under his breath. “Alright. We need to find her. Start a sweep of the house.”

“Yes, sir.”

There was hesitation from Mustang. “Check all the places someone could hide,” he said. “No matter how small.”

Havoc looked at him for a moment, trying to work through the implications of that, then nodded. “Right.”

They took opposite ends of the house, slowly making their way through it and looking through every nook and cranny. Doors, cabinets, storage compartments, furniture, everything was looked through, under, and around. They had no luck on the bottom floor, though, and silently met at the bottom of staircase. It was already turning dark. They needed to find her soon.

With a nod they headed up the stairs, Mustang taking the side with the master bedroom and study, and Havoc taking the side with their rooms. There was no sign of her in Mustang’s bedroom, but when Havoc went in hers, he knew where she was.

Her window was open, that rabbit was gone, and there were tree branches scraping the outside wall.

Havoc holstered his gun, and went to the window, pulling himself out of it. It took a little maneuvering, but he was able to get to the roof line within a few seconds. Once he could on top of the roof, it took him a minute to spot Hawkeye. She was sitting up there, hiding in the shadows of a chimney, staring out over the property in the fading sunlight. She was hard to spot, although Havoc was sure that was the point. The shadow wasn’t quite big enough to hide her, although he could imagine a child-sized Hawkeye hiding completely in it. He stopped his mind before he began to hypothesize on what she might have been hiding from as a child.

Movement from her caught his eyes, and he noticed that faded stuffed rabbit in her hand. She was gently playing with its ears, almost mindlessly, which explained why its ears looked more worn then the rest of it. Havoc doubted that, despite her seeming inattention to him, that Hawkeye was unaware of him. In fact, he was sure that she knew that he was there, and so didn’t bother to try hiding himself from her, instead pulling himself up on the rooftop

“You scared us, you know?” Havoc said, pulling himself fully onto the roof and making his way over towards her carefully. He sat down beside her, looking out over the land with her. “Helps if you tell us if you need some alone time.”

“…Sorry,” she said, her voice soft in volume, but rough in quality.

Havoc shrugged, not saying anything about it, and looked out at the view. The sun was just about set at this point, and the sky was already lighting up with stars. It really was a beautiful sight. “It’s a real beautiful view up here.” He commented, keeping his eyes looking forward on the view.

“It is,” Riza agreed. “It always has been. I used to come up here a lot. It was always a good view, and no one ever looked up here for me.”

“Yeah? I can see why. It’s not easy to get to,” He commented, wondering how she’d respond to that bit he had left dangling.

“That’s why I liked it,” she said, responding to it. “I could get up hear easily, but it was hard for—for others.”

It didn’t escape him that she glossed over who getting up here might have been hard for, but he didn’t push. Instead, Havoc nodded, and then glanced down at the bunny. “Did he come up here a lot too?” He asked.

Hawkeye glanced down at the rabbit in her hands. “Yes,” she said. “Every time, unless I was in too big of a hurry.”

He kept his mind from speculating what reason she might have had to hide on the roof in a hurry. Havoc nodded instead, quiet for a moment. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mustang’s head pop up above the roofline, and he gestured low, letting him know that he had the situation under control. Mustang hesitated for a moment, and then disappeared again, and Havoc returned his attention fully to Hawkeye. “You weren’t in too big of a hurry this time, then.” He commented.

“It was more habit than anything,” Riza said with a sigh. “I just wanted to be left alone for a while.”

“Yeah, you’ve kinda made that clear,” Havoc said, tilting his head back to look at the awakening stars. “Or, at least you have with Roy.” She tensed up at the mention of him, and Havoc decided to gently push. “What gives, Ri? You two are joined at the hip most of the time.

“It’s nothing,” she said, abruptly stopping her petting of the stuffed rabbit and putting him down on the roof, although she didn’t let go of him. Instead she let him and her arms rest between her legs, her feet planted, and knees bent to keep her from sliding off the roof.

“Mm, I don’t think that’s true,” Havoc said, taking note of her posture and tone. “Look, Riza, we both know I’m not the smartest man. But I’m pretty good with people. And at this point even someone deaf and blind could tell that you’re angry at him, and he’s frustrated with you.”

She didn’t say anything, just frowned and looked down, her gaze settling on the rabbit she still held.

“Look, I get it. This place, it’s not a good place for you. There’s some stuff that’s happened here, and you had to deal with it on your own. I don’t know what, and I’m not asking. But whatever it was, it was bad enough that you don’t want to be reminded of it. But you’re back here now, reminded of it constantly and you’re mad at Mustang for bringing you back. You understand why, but you don’t like it. You don’t like that he’s the reason you’re feeling this way again and so you’re taking it out on him.”

Her jaw worked as she glared down, her hands holding tightly to that bunny.

“Riza.” He turned his head to look at her, leaning so that he was at least more in her periphery. “I get it. This place makes you feel alone. It makes you hurt. But you have to remember, you’re not alone anymore. You’ve got me up here with you, and you know I love you, Ri. We’ve been friends too long for that not to be a thing. But you also know I have no idea what’s going on. Down there you’ve got someone who loves you more and is hurting alongside you. He knows and understand your past. He wants to help you with all of this, and he’s hurting because he knows that he’s making you hurt.”

Her eyes had dropped now, no longer a glare as she looked down at the bunny in her hands. Her jaw was trembling. Havoc reached a careful arm out and looped it over her shoulders, drawing her up next to him. She didn’t resist, although she didn’t lean into it either.

Havoc gave her a squeeze. “You don’t have to face this alone. You don’t have to be a pillar of strength. You’ve got someone down there who’s ready to walk by your side. You just have to let him.”

There was a tremble to her now, and a sort of shuddering to her breath. Havoc didn’t say anything more, but instead waited. Sometimes, a gentle patience was what was needed more than anything.

“I’ve hurt him,” she said, her voice low, trembling. “I was so mad, because it felt like he was breaking a promise, because it felt like being used again. I—I just—”

“It’s okay, Riza.”

“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” she said, her shoulders finally slumping. “I don’t want to be alone ever again.”

Havoc held her closer, gave her a kiss on the head like he would one of his sisters. “You don’t have to be,” he said. “He’ll never leave you alone. You just have to let him in.”

Hawkeye didn’t say anything else. She just shuddered again, leaning into him more. Havoc just sat there and held her as her silent tears fell.


	4. Part III

**Author:** RealityBreakGirl/aquietlearningcorner/scentedbygunpowder  
 **Word Count:** 7,561  
 **Prompt:** FMA Big Bang 2020  
 **Characters:** Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang, Jean Havoc  
 **Pairing:** Royai  
 **Genre:** Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family  
 **Chapter:** Part III of 5

* * *

Part III

By the time they came back downstairs, the sun had long since set. Havoc let Hawkeye go in first, seeing as she knew the best way back through her window, and he followed suit, closing it while she sat the rabbit back on the bed. The two made their way downstairs, Hawkeye somewhat subdued, but with all that tension that she had been carrying gone. An exhaustion was growing in its place, but it Havoc was honestly glad to see that the tension had left her. Hopefully, with that gone she would be more receptive to Mustang’s gestures towards her.

Leaving the second floor, they made their way to the kitchen, where, to Havoc’s amusement, Mustang was trying to cook. Several badly chopped vegetables were on the table, and he was cursing lightly as he tried to do something to some sort of burning vegetables in a pan. In the sink a pot sat, smoking, with something still popping and bubbling in it.

“Ah!” Mustang jerked his hand away, shaking it out for a second as something popped him, before trying to scrape the vegetables off the bottom of the pan again.

The softest exhalation came from Hawkeye, almost a laugh, and Havoc felt something in his heart ease at that. If she was still mad at Mustang, she would have been irritated, not almost laughing. She walked over to him and nudged him aside.

“Let me have that. You know you can’t cook.”

“Hawkeye!” Mustang looked over at her, surprised, but let her push him to the side. “I—” he looked at her, uncertainty on his face for a moment. Havoc couldn’t see Hawkeye’s face, but something in it must have reassured Mustang, because his uncertainty faded. “I was just trying to make supper for us.”

Havoc peered at a strange lump on the table, some sort of runny, mushy thing with a lot of flour around it. “What were you trying to make?” he asked. “This looks more like something to make us all sick.”

Mustang whirled on him. “Sh-shut up! I was trying to make some dough, okay? But it didn’t turn out right!”

“What were you making dough for?” Havoc asked.

Mustang mumbled something under his breath before going over to the sink. He grimaced at the pot in it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” Havoc pushed.

“I said that I was trying to make a pot pie, alright!” He crossed his arms. “It’s not my fault that the cookbooks aren’t clear.”

Havoc blinked at him in surprise. “How can you do all that alchemy, but you can’t follow the recipe in a cookbook?”

“You were trying to make pot pie?” Hawkeye said, glancing back at Mustang.

“Y-yeah.” Mustang seemed a little embarrassed, and Havoc got the feeling that he was missing something again.

“Thank you,” she said with a slight smile. “I appreciate the gesture.”

“Well, I know you like it,” Mustang said, clearly a little uncomfortable.

“I do,” she said. “But next time, just lay out the ingredients for me.”

Havoc was watching them, as they seemed to dance around each other, Mustang trying to figure out what to do now, and Hawkeye obviously tired from earlier. Looked like things were up to him again.

“Welp,” he said, straightening up and speaking loudly. “Seems to me that you’re no cook, General. And Hawkeye, you need to go warm up after being out on the roof.” Not that it was cold, but an excuse was an excuse. “So why don’t you leave supper tonight to me. I can’t do much, but my mama taught me a few dishes. Why don’t you two go see if that radio works if you want something to do. I’m tired of it being so quiet in here.”

“No, I won’t leave you to take care of this mess alone,” Hawkeye said.

“And I should clean up. I can do that much,” Mustang said with a grimace.

“Nuh-uh,” Havoc said. “Look, Hawk’s been doing pretty much all of the cooking since we got here—and I understand why you haven’t General. Let me give you a chance to wow you with a Havoc family recipe or two. It’s about time I took a turn.”

He knew that both of them were incredibly stubborn people, but he also knew that it would do them some good to just rest with each other. They must have been tired, because after a few seconds of a staring contest, they gave in.

“Alright,” Mustang said. “We’ll leave it to you tonight.”

“I’ll call ya when it’s ready,” Havoc promised.

He watched them walk out, watched as Mustang subtly moved a little closer to Hawkeye, and she leaned into it. He saw some of the tension leave Mustang’s shoulders, and his hand move a little closer to Hawkeye’s, brushing against hers to give her hand a squeeze and saw her return it.

Good. Maybe they’d work some things out.

Havoc turned back to the kitchen and grimaced. It was a mess, and he had his work cut out for him.

How had Mustang even done that to that pot?

Still, it was a good idea to give the two of them some time alone, Havoc thought. Now that Hawkeye had basically had a breakdown on him—not something he ever thought he would see—the two could, he thought, begin to come together once more.

He listened for them as he chopped the vegetables for his ma’s famous pot pie—he did have all the spices he needed, didn’t he?—and smiled to himself as he heard their quiet voices. Not twenty minutes into cooking he heard them try to make the radio work, Mustang saying something about needing Fuery, and Hawkeye shooting back with a tired laugh that it would still be a miracle. There was a lot of static, but they eventually found a radio station with decent reception and good music. It drowned out most of their conversation, but Havoc didn’t mind. Let them have their privacy. He had cooking to do.

He only looked in on them once, when he heard odd movement, and he peeked into the sitting room. He quickly left before either of them saw him, but the sight of Mustang and Hawkeye dancing closely with each other bolstered him through the rest of his food preparation. They would be alright now. He was certain of it.

About an hour later he had decent meal laid out and had cleaned up after himself—except for that pot, which he wasn’t sure would ever be the same again. Even though he didn’t want to interrupt them, Havoc did call for Hawkeye and Mustang to eat. Supper was, for once, a much lighter affair, although it was clear that the evening’s events had worn on all of them. Still, Hawkeye and Mustang sat near each other, and Hawkeye didn’t shy away from the small gestures that Mustang made towards her. It relieved Havoc, honestly. If she was receptive to even the small things, then it seemed that the two of them were on the mend.

Bedtime came early that night, all of them tired from the day’s events, and they wearily made their way upstairs and into their respective rooms. Havoc laid in bed, staring at the ceiling again, ignoring Betsy the dress form in the corner, and listening to the house. The house itself was creaky, old, and not even Mustang’s alchemic changes could change the sound of a house settling on its foundations. The house wasn’t what was keeping him awake, though.

Havoc could hear Riza in the next room, restless, and wondered if he ought to go check on her. It had been a rough night for her, and he worried. He had just about decided to get up when his ears perked at the sound of someone else up and moving around. From the direction of it, he guessed that Mustang had come out of his room. As he listened, he heard the footsteps move down the hallway and then stop, about where he guessed Hawkeye’s door was. There was a slight knock, and then he heard Mustang’s voice, too low for Havoc to understand. Apparently, Hawkeye could understand him, though, and she answered him. Havoc heard the movement of her getting up, and then a door being unlocked and opened. For a moment, he didn’t hear much, and then there was a murmur of voices again, talking. After a moment, Havoc heard movement again, but this time both of them towards the bed, where they seemed to settle.

Havoc rolled over in his bed, a smile on his lips. It seemed that those two would be alright now. He still didn’t have all of the puzzle pieces to them or to what, exactly, had happened between them, but Havoc didn’t need them. As long as Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye were alright, all was right with the world. And if all was right with the world, then that meant that Havoc could sleep.

The next day dawned bright and early, as per the norm, and Havoc rolled out of bed, started the coffee, and went to check on the horses. However, when he got back, Hawkeye wasn’t up and cooking breakfast. Havoc shrugged, figuring that the two were still with each other, and got to work, cooking up some pancakes and such for them. It was at about the time that Mustang usually came downstairs that both he and Hawkeye came down the stairs together.

“Mornin’,” Havoc drawled. “Look at you two coming down together.”

“Shut up, Jean, it wasn’t anything like that,” Roy muttered.

Hawkeye was making her way straight to the coffee. “Careful,” she said, obviously tired. “I haven’t had my coffee yet. I’m more liable to shoot.”

“Yes ma’am,” Havoc said with a chuckle. Even though he had drifted off to sleep, it seemed like the two of them had finally had their late-night talk and gotten things worked out. Good. It had been long overdue. Maybe they would be back to normal now.

Hawkeye helped him finish breakfast, no one wanting Mustang anywhere near the cooking after the disaster with the poor ruined pot. It was still soaking in the sink, and still, to Havoc’s eye, seemed slightly toxic. Hawkeye seemed to be eyeing it as if she thought she could clean it, but Havoc thought the poor thing was a gonner.

It didn’t take long for Havoc and Hawkeye to finish cooking, and the three of them sat together a bit more companionably to eat then they had on previous mornings. It was easy enough that Havoc almost didn’t want to bring up the work they needed to do today. He’d honestly rather have everyone rest. It had to be done sooner or later, though, and both Mustang and Hawkeye were workaholics. One of them would mention getting to work eventually.

“So… are we going to finish the basement today?” Havoc watched as Hawkeye instantly stilled, pulled in a quiet breath and pursed her lips.

Mustang moved his hand next to hers and shook his head. “No. I finished it up yesterday,” he said. He glanced at Hawkeye. “I figured it was for the best.”

Hawkeye seemed to relax a bit, but not a lot at Mustang’s words. Havoc had to wonder just what it was about that basement that kept both Hawkeye and Mustang so squirrely about it. It was more than a little odd, and just one more part of the puzzle. But it also wasn’t really his business, was it?

“Alright,” he said, putting those thoughts to the side for the moment. “Then what’s the plan for today?”

“The outbuildings,” Mustang said. “I think we should be able to get to most of them today.”

Havoc glanced outside. “It’s shaping up to be warm. We should get started soon.”

Mustang looked out as well and sighed. “Alright. Then let’s get this cleaned up and get to work.”

As far as Havoc was concerned, there were only three good things about working outside that day. The first was that there weren’t any animals around, aside from the horses, so they didn’t have to worry about stepping in any muck as they worked around the various outbuildings. It would have been a lot more difficult if they were worrying about stepping in manure.

They started with the barn, the biggest of the structures. There really wasn’t much to the lower level, and most of the work was left to Mustang and his ability to transmute, although truthfully there wasn’t much to that either. Most of the wood in the barn was exactly what it seemed do be, although Mustang checked anyway, just to be thorough.

While he worked on that, Havoc and Hawkeye checked out the loft. Here, Havoc was introduced to the second good thing of the day: the stories that he learned.

Hawkeye was a surprisingly good storyteller, and she regaled Havoc with the misadventures of a young city-boy Mustang as they worked. Although there was some old equipment and such, it was easy work. Most of what they went through were items Hawkeye herself had put in the loft, saying that sometimes she spent nights up there when she was a girl. Havoc didn’t ask why, but he did enjoy her stories, and just let her talk as she felt like it.

Havoc got to hear of the time Mustang got kicked by Hawkeye’s goat, and when the goat had eaten part of a handkerchief that had belonged to her mother and Roy had managed to restore it with alchemy. He’d never forget the visual she described of Mustang hanging by his ankle on a rope while the goat tried to eat his hair. She had, apparently, just laughed at him for a full three minutes before she pulled the goat away.

He knew there was a reason he liked Riza Hawkeye.

The barn, however, like everything else so far, was a bust. There had been a few alchemy circles discovered, but Hawkeye and Mustang both seemed to know about them, if the somewhat amused glances they gave each other meant anything. It raised Havoc’s eyebrows, and he found himself wondering just what kind of mischief the two of them had gotten up to as kids.

When the barn was finished, they moved on to the shed. It had, to Havoc’s mind, a disturbing amount of chemicals and compounds stored in it. Some of them seemed to be quite old, and Havoc found himself more then a little concerned about what might happen if those bottles were opened. Neither Mustang nor Hawkeye seemed to be concerned, though, which Havoc found a bit, well, concerning.

Hawkeye, apparently, had a greater than average knowledge on chemicals. She was able to identify a few of the containers by looking at them and smelling them, which Havoc found a bit impressive. She also seemed to know a great deal about what mixing certain chemicals together would do, and Havoc eyed her warily when she seemed thrilled to find a few particular ones in the shed. She deemed them “useful” and collected some to take back home with her. Havoc deemed them “dangerous” but he supposed if anyone knew what they were doing, it would be Hawkeye. He just hoped that the chemicals didn’t cause a problem on the train.

Still, the shed gave them no clues, and they broke for lunch, Hawkeye taking a few more of the chemicals into the house with them. Lunch didn’t take long, as they just ate some of the leftovers from the night before. Mustang doled out their portions while Havoc worked on stoking the fire in the stove to heat them up. Hawkeye was busy doing something with the bottles of chemicals and that pot that Mustang had ruined, but Havoc, although curious, didn’t ask what. It wasn’t long before they were all sitting down, listening to the radio and eating leftover potpie. Havoc couldn’t help but notice that Hawkeye’s portion was a little bigger than his and Mustang’s, but he kept that to himself. If Mustang wanted to give Hawkeye more of her favorite meal, he wasn’t going to complain.

It was on to the chicken coop after lunch. With the way that it was falling in, Havoc held out little hope for it. He was not disappointed. He did get some amusing stories of Mustang being chased by chickens and some touching ones of Hawkeye raising little baby chicks, which made the search more fun, at least. Of course, watching Mustang get caught up in the chicken wire had been pretty funny too. As Hawkeye laughed at him before beginning to help him out of the rusted wire, scolding Mustang as she did, Havoc couldn’t help but wonder if he was getting a glimpse of what their childhood with each other had been like.

Havoc wasn’t sure if the day was hotter than the others had been, or if it was just that they were outside and not in the cool of the house, but it certainly felt like a scorcher. He abandoned his usual shirt early on, only keeping on his undershirt. Mustang did likewise. Havoc honestly had no idea how Hawkeye kept working in her short-sleeved black turtleneck. He knew she was sweating through, and she had to have something lighter. If nothing else, he’d lend her an undershirt. But he already knew that was fruitless. She had refused that even when they were rebuilding Ishval, and he had never figured out why.

They took a break before moving on to the gazebo, stopping to get water at the well. That was when Havoc discovered the third good thing about working outside today: the well water. The water from it was cool and fresh, with a sweetness to it Havoc hadn’t found in any city water anywhere.

“You should bottle and sell this stuff, Riza,” he said. “You’d make a fortune.”

“It is the best water I’ve ever tasted,” Mustang agreed. “When I first got here, I couldn’t believe that water could taste this good.”

“That’s because you grew up on the city water,” Hawkeye said. “I couldn’t believe anyone could call that water when I first tasted it. It tasted like some had decided to dissolve a bunch of foul-tasting vitamin pills in it and convinced you it was good.”

“…They do try to fortify the water,” Mustang admitted.

“I’ll take this and good food over fortified water any day,” Havoc declared.

“Why didn’t you try to sell any?” Mustang asked her, clearly curious. “You sold just about everything else.”

Hawkeye didn’t really look at either of the men as she answered, bending instead to pick up a broken piece of glass that had been glinting in the sunlight. “I tried, once,” she said. “Cleaned up some old jars and took them into town. But when Father found out, he grew very angry. I should have asked him first, but he was in the middle of research, and I didn’t want to disturb him.”

“When was this?” Mustang asked, clearly having no memory of this moment.

She glanced at him. “It was that summer you went back for a week, because your sister was getting married,” She said, and then examined the piece of glass in her hand a bit more before throwing it down. “We should probably get back to work.”

Havoc watched as understanding dawned on Mustang’s face and with it, a small amount of horror. Havoc’s brow furrowed, and he wondered what that was about. He had a feeling, though, like most of this history here, he would never truly know.

The gazebo was the last thing they examined, not that there was much to it. It didn’t take them long to go through it and then to collectively decide to take a break. All in all, it was another dirty day where they once again turned up absolutely nothing. Havoc was, personally, glad to be out of the heat and in the shade. From the way Mustang and Hawkeye were slumped in the chairs Mustang had repaired, they were too.

“…you fixed the roof,” Hawkeye said, looking up at the roof of the gazebo.

“Yeah,” Mustang said. “It was easy. I figured why not just go ahead and fix it while I was there.”

“Mm, well thank you,” Hawkeye said she was quiet for a moment. “I always liked coming out here, when I could.”

“You spend a lot of time outside?” Havoc asked, curious. The answer was obvious, but he was enjoying learning about Mustang and Hawkeye, and he hoped he could get a little more information out of them.

Hawkeye laughed. “Only as much as possible,” she said. “I did a lot of hunting and foraging in these woods, and it was a lot better to be outside then in, especially after father finished one of his research bends.” She sighed and looked up at the roof of the gazebo. “I don’t see myself coming back out here, but if I did, I’d want to make it look nice with flowers again.”

“You did tend them well,” Mustang said after a moment. “You showed me how to care for them. You showed me all sorts of things while I was here.”

She hummed in agreement. “I showed you how to do a lot of things.” A glint of mischief appeared in her eye, and Havoc paid attention, interested to see where this was headed. “Too bad we can’t do some of those same sorts of things,” she said. “I doubt going swimming in our underwear will be quite the same now as it was then.”

That caught Havoc’s attention. “Say what now?” Havoc said, raising an eyebrow.

Mustang scowled. “It’s not what you think.”

“It sounds like you got to see Hawkeye in her underwear,” he countered. “Her wet underwear! Pardon me sir, but you’re a luckier man then most!”

Hawkeye grinned. “The first time, it happened I hit him.”

“See, now that sounds like something I’d expect.” Havoc said, sitting back in his chair, clearly waiting for the story.

Mustang huffed. “We were kids! I was twelve! She was nine! There was nothing like _that_ about it!”

“You wouldn’t still be here if there were,” Hawkeye retorted. “Father almost made sure you weren’t.”

“Oh, this sounds like a story,” Havoc said with a grin.

“It’s nothing!” Mustang protested.

“He was still new,” Hawkeye said, completely ignoring Mustang. “Hadn’t been around much, found the path and followed it. I had gone out for a bit of a swim, as it was still hot. He stumbled upon the pond, happened to see me. I saw him, and it looked like he was staring at me.”

“I saw you go under and not come back up,” Mustang mumbled. “And when you did, it was just your head. I thought you were drowning.”

“He came in the water after me, grabbed my arm, and I hit him right in the eye,” Hawkeye continued. “Thought he was after me. I fled back to the house, calling for my father. I didn’t typically scream like that, so he came out. I was soaking wet and scared, and managed to get out what had happened. Mustang came staggering up the path just a little bit behind me, his clothes soaked, with my clothes bundled up in his arms, and a bruise forming on his face.”

“I don’t think I ever saw Master Hawkeye so mad,” Mustang said, running a hand over his face. “I thought he was going to kill me.”

“It took a little bit of explaining, but it was finally worked out that everything was an accident,” Hawkeye said. “Father did take some money to buy me material to make a bathing costume so this wouldn’t happen again, but I served Roy smaller and colder portions of food for a month.”

Havoc was laughing. “Oh, man that’s great! Roy here being a slick city boy probably didn’t help things any.”

Hawkeye smiled. “Not at all.”

Mustang grumbled about it, but it was clear that he wasn’t really taking an offense to her teasing. It was good to see her smile, Havoc, thought, and to see her with some good memories from this place. With the history that he could just feel weighing on this place, part of him had worried that Hawkeye had not had any joy in childhood. He had enjoyed hearing these stories from her today that countered that. It was still clear that being here was weighing heavy on her, but it seemed that there were some bright spots in her childhood. He did find it interesting, though, that most of them seemed to involve Mustang. Havoc filed that away for later thought and let himself just enjoy this moment.

They were quiet for a bit, enjoying the shade, and the lengthening light. The day was ending, and the evening beginning. Cicadas started to chirp, and a few spots of flashing light appeared as the lightning bugs started to come out. They’d be out heavier later, but for now their time was just beginning.

“So, what’s the plan now?” Havoc asked. “Turning up the dirt?”

Mustang looked over at Hawkeye and she shook her head. “No. Even the outbuildings were a long shot. When my father finished—” she took a breath, and Havoc saw her shoulders tighten, that haunted look coming back in her eyes. “By the time he finished transcribing his completed research, he was in no shape to leave the house. He barely left his room.”

Mustang was looking at her with that unfathomable look on his face again, and Havoc knew there was something that he was missing here, something important to them. It wasn’t likely that he was going to learn it now, though.

“We’ve struck out,” Mustang said, turning his attention back to the both of them. “It was a long shot anyway. Tomorrow morning we’ll get up, pack up, and head back,” Mustang said. “That’ll be a week. We’ve been away long enough.”

“Yeah. Hopefully the office isn’t in shambles,” Havoc said. “Or Fuery traumatized by some story Breda told him.”

That brought smiles to their faces, although they all knew that the master sergeant wasn’t that gullible or scared anymore, although still not fond of ghost stories.

“Well, if Breda pulled anything, I’m sure that Fuery had found a way to get him back,” Hawkeye said. “He’s become quite adept at slipping treats for Hayate in Breda’s pockets.”

Havoc laughed again, Roy chuckling too, before he stood up.

“We better go ahead and clean up,” Mustang said. “We’ll head out as soon as we can tomorrow.”

“Do we need to go ahead and call for tickets?” Havoc asked, standing up and stretching.

Hawkeye shook her head. “There’s no phone here,” she said. “Father never had one installed.”

“We’ll just have to spend some time in town waiting,” Mustang said. “Something should come through.”

“Unless the schedule had changed in a week, then yes, there should be,” Hawkeye said, standing up herself.

Mustang nodded. “Good. Then let’s go eat and pack up and clean up what we can. I want to get off as soon as possible tomorrow.”

The three of them made their way back to the house, Havoc pausing by that stuck kitchen door to look over the grounds again. He still thought that they, and the house itself, had the potential to be pretty. He just couldn’t shake the feeling, though, that there was something ominous about the place. Maybe it was the tension that had been between Mustang and Hawkeye all week. Maybe it was some of the stories that Hawkeye told, ones that rolled off her tongue as if they were normal, but made Mustang tense up and gave Havoc himself pause. Or maybe he was just reading too much into things. He just couldn’t help feel like he had missed a rather big puzzle piece here somewhere.

But, again, was this really his puzzle to solve?

“Jean—if you want some of the lemonade, you better get in here.”

“Yeah, I’m coming,” he turned to go in, leaving the door open behind him, and his ruminations outside as well.

The evening passed fairly amicably. Someone had switched the radio on again, and they listened to it as they sat down to eat, finishing off whatever leftovers were there. Hawkeye poured a few more chemicals in that poor pot, and then went ahead and prepared them all food for the next day’s lunch and set aside what she could for breakfast. She had chosen the amounts of supplies well, and there was very little that was left. She saved what she could, clearly packing it to take home with her in her usual “waste not, want not” type of way.

The containers that had held the foodstuffs were washed and prepared to take back to Mrs. Nelson. Havoc and Mustang went through the house while Hawkeye was working on that, making sure that it was as pre-prepared as it could be for their departure, closing windows, closing off rooms, and emptying lamps of oil and sconces of wax.

Showers were taken in turn, with enough time between them that the water didn’t get too cold. Mustang offered to see if he could make the water in the boiler heat faster with his flames, but Hawkeye had shut that down with a fast and firm no, and Havoc thought it was probably for the best. Although, admittedly, if the boiler had blown up, it would make for a good story to end their time here. A destructive and potentially deadly one, but a good story, nonetheless.

Bedtime came not too long afterwards, all of them tired, but not as weary as other days. Havoc chalked it up to the tension between Mustang and Hawkeye being gone and settled into bed, once again staring up at the ceiling with Betsy the dress form looming in the corner.

Had it really been a week since he had come here with Mustang and Hawkeye? It almost felt like this place existed in it’s own little pocket of time or something. The past weighed heavy here, although it was a past he didn’t know about. It stayed, lingered, and left its presence, or at least it did on Hawkeye and, to some extent, Mustang. It was a heavy feeling, as if, even though they had found nothing, a lot had happened. Try as he might, Havoc couldn’t help but think about it as he laid there, attempting to sleep, laying out what he knew, and what he suspected.

Hawkeye’s father had taught Mustang alchemy, and flame alchemy was connected somehow. That had been a huge revelation to Havoc, and it explained so much about the two and their relationship. It still left a lot of questions, but it also answered more than a few.

Hawkeye grew up poor, and maybe even without food often. It, again, explained a lot. It explained how Hawkeye had so many different skills. It explained why she was so frugal with what she bought and how she continually repaired things. It explained why she tended to keep things until they were no longer useable. It explained why she could make meal out of almost anything, and why she tended to keep even the smallest amounts of food. When you grew up with little, you learned how to make it stretch.

Hawkeye’s mother had died when she was young. Hawkeye had cared for her father until he died. And, Havoc would guess, Hawkeye’s dad hadn’t been a good dad, although how far that went, he wasn’t sure. It brought a new light, though, to the way that she would fuss over anyone who was sick and ply them with teas and medicines until they went home or went to the doctor.

He had learned a lot about Hawkeye. He had learned about Mustang, too. But it still felt like he was missing something.

Havoc sighed and rolled over. He had lots of puzzle pieces, but he wasn’t even sure what kind of a puzzle he was putting together. All he knew was that what he had learned did explain a lot about Hawkeye, and about the relationship Hawkeye and Mustang had.

Havoc’s ears perked as he heard someone moving around the house, and he listened to see where the footsteps were going. It sounded like it was Mustang again, heading towards Hawkeye’s room. Havoc waited, listening, as this time Mustang knocked, but went ahead and opened the door. He heard muffled voices again, and then what sounded like Mustang getting on the bed.

Havoc stopped paying attention then. Maybe this wasn’t his puzzle to solve. Maybe he didn’t need to know. Maybe all he needed to do, right now, was close his eyes, and go to sleep.

He would just trust that, if he was meant to find out any answers, that they would come in time.

The morning was busy. Hawkeye cooked breakfast and gave the kitchen a good cleaning, the chemicals she had used making that pot Mustang had ruined usable again. Havoc regarded it as a small miracle and teased her about it until she hit him with a towel and told him to go check on the horses. Havoc had obliged with a grin, and went to ready the horses and the wagon for the trip back, making sure that the animals were ready. He also mucked out the barn, tossing the manure near what he thought was an old garden. The plants there looked like they could use the fertilizer. Mustang was on cleaning duty and made sure that the bathrooms were clean and that the beds were stripped. Working together, it wasn’t long before the three of them were loading up the wagon with their luggage, the containers for the Nelsons, and the bundled-up bedding that Hawkeye said Mrs. Nelson would clean. They climbed aboard and headed off, back down that rain-rutted road.

It was slow going again, as the road was still bad, but this time, at least, they were enjoying themselves, even if Hawkeye did seem tired. Havoc couldn’t really blame her for that. This week had been hard, but it had been particularly hard on her. This time, though, Hawkeye leaned into Mustang as they bumped along, and Havoc pretended not to notice when a hand brushed a thigh once or twice. Their business was their business.

Once out onto the road, they could move at a slightly faster clip, but Havoc still took it easy, enjoying spending a little time with a less up-tight Hawkeye in the area she grew up in. He asked her questions about the crops and groves that they saw, and she answered them as best she could. Forestry, she explained, was the best thing that this area had to offer, although it really wasn’t that much in the grand scheme of things. Her land, with its wild woods, was actually quite valuable because of that. She had no desire to cut down the woods and sell the timber, but instead let it grow wild and allowed hunting on it. She personally thought it was better that way, and Havoc found that he couldn’t disagree.

When it came to the other crops, most crops weren’t cash crops, but sustainable ones. They sent out a few small shipments of things here and there, but most of what was grown was used by the locals in the area. The area honestly had very little to offer and mostly kept to itself. Havoc certainly thought that explained why the town hadn’t grown much and wasn’t well known. There wasn’t anything to know about it.

It was a pleasant journey back into town, the Nelsons greeting them enthusiastically as they returned. Mrs. Nelson fussed over the containers and told Hawkeye that she hadn’t needed to bother, but Havoc saw her whisk them away anyway. He couldn’t blame her. One less thing to have to spend money on was money to spend on a different need. Havoc watched with great amusement as the older lady fussed over both Hawkeye and Mustang, questioning them a great deal more about just “what you two youngsters have been up to—yes, yes, we’ve seen the papers, but I want to hear things from you.”

It was in the middle of one of those conversations that someone called out Mustang’s name, and Havoc looked up from the preserves he was considering to see both Mustang and Hawkeye turn to look at the caller. It took him a minute, but he recognized him as one of the men from that first day in town. It also didn’t escape his notice that Mustang stepped just slightly in front of Hawkeye. Both of them looked tense, and Havoc slowly sat down the jar he was looking at, just in case.

“Thompson,” Mustang returned, his eyes focused on the man.

Havoc suddenly remembered Hawkeye’s words from earlier in the week, about how Mrs. Nelson always made sure that the kids behaved, and how she let Hawkeye “wait things out” in the store sometimes. It had made him wonder if Hawkeye had been bullied as a child, and he was pretty sure that he was getting his answer right now.

The three stared at each other for a moment, before Thompson stuck his hand out. “I saw you when you first came into town,” he said. “Didn’t have the time at that moment to talk to you, but I’m glad I ran into you now.” He looked over at Hawkeye. “To both of you. I just wanted to apologize for how I was when we were kids. It was wrong, and I wish some had culled me on it sooner. Heavens knows if I hear of my son doing half the things I did to the two of you, I’m going to make sure he can’t sit down for a week.”

That had Havoc’s interest piqued, but he wasn’t about to ask questions now. Instead he watched as Mustang gave a subtle glace to Hawkeye, who must have given him some sort of invisible signal, because Mustang reached out to take Thompson’s hand.

“We’ve all done things we’re not proud of,” he said. “So long as we strive to be better and teach the next generation how to be better than us.”

Thompson gave Mustang a bit of a smile, then, when Mustang had let go, extended his hand to Hawkeye. For a second, she just regarded it, before she, too, reached out to shake it. “I can’t say they were enjoyable days, but thank you for your apology.”

Thompson gave her a smile as well and withdrew his hand. “Listen—some of the others are in town today. We’ve been talking since we saw you earlier this week. Would you be willing to come at least have a drink with us or something? It doesn’t have to be long.”

Havoc watched as Mustang and Hawkeye held one of their silent exchanges for a moment, and then, after a moment, agreed. Havoc begged off, saying he was going to take a smoke break before the train arrived, but he did watch them walk off. It was interesting, he thought, to watch his two commanding officers interact with these former bullies. Even though it seemed that bygones were bygones, they still constantly kept each other aware of the other’s presence, be it through being in eyesight, or through light touches or brushes. It made him wonder what watching these two fight together would look like just because they were so aware of each other.

There were layers of depth here, and Havoc felt like he was out of his element in trying to figure it out.

The train came soon enough, though, and with a last good-bye to the Nelsons—and some packages sent with them for the ride, courtesy of Mrs. Nelson—they boarded the train to leave Awrout behind. It would be nice to be back in Central, to be home again, Havoc thought, and he looked forward to things returning to normal—whatever that looked like for them.

The train was, again, full of people, and it took them a moment to find a set of seats together. Unlike last time, this trip promised to be a less tense one, and Havoc was honestly ready for it. Mustang and Hawkeye settled on the same bench as naturally as breathing, and that was a relief to Havoc. It was how the two of them needed to be, and honestly, Havoc was glad. He sat across from them, eyeing the bench’s length to see if he’d be able to stretch his legs out across it later. Hawkeye and Mustang seemed not to have noticed how they naturally angled their bodies towards each other, just slightly, not exactly touching, but close. When the train jerked into motion, Mustang’s hand moved towards Hawkeye’s as everyone jolted slightly. She let him, and Havoc decided that this trip was definitely going to be better then the one to Awrout.

It honestly wasn’t far into the ride that Hawkeye fell asleep, this whole week obviously having exhausted her. Havoc couldn’t blame her. She had been on an emotional roller coaster, and it wasn’t one that Havoc cared to repeat. He didn’t comment on the way that Mustang just shifted around to make her more comfortable against him, or on the soft looks Mustang gave her now and then. And Havoc didn’t comment on the way that Hawkeye seemed to settle in against him naturally. These two had fit together for years, it seemed. Havoc wasn’t going to try to change that.

“…It’ll be good to be home, won’t it, sir,” Havoc said softly.

“Hm?” Mustang glanced up from the paper he was reading. “Oh—yes it will be. I think we could all use a good night’s rest.”

“Yeah… Arwout wasn’t exactly restful was it?” Havoc mused.

Mustang looked up, letting out a silent sigh. “I can’t say that it was,” he agreed. “I’m glad to be leaving it behind.”

Havoc blinked a bit at this. Mustang had never seemed to hold any grudge against the town. If anyone had been glad to be leaving, he had assumed it would be Hawkeye most of all. “Was it really that bad to you?” he asked Mustang. “It sounded like there were some good memories for you two there.”

Mustang stared out the window at the passing landscape. “…some, yes.” He said after a moment. “But I’m not sure if they outweigh the rest.” He looked down at Hawkeye, sleeping against him. “I’d rather take the good from there with me and leave the bad behind.”

There was a lot in that sentence. Havoc didn’t bother to unpack it; he just nodded his head thoughtfully. “It’s always wise to take the good with us,” he said, and couldn’t help but wonder if there was more in that statement then he’d intended on saying.

In the end, there really wasn’t much more to say to that, and so Havoc fell silent, letting the noise of the train take over.

The train ride was uneventful, Hawkeye waking eventually, and the three of them sharing the treats Mrs. Nelson had packed for them, as well as the food Hawkeye had prepared. Havoc shared some of the sweets with the kid that was sitting behind him, and then had to deal with having a new best friend for the rest of the ride, much to the amusement of Mustang and Hawkeye. He didn’t mind, though. Honestly, it made him miss his nieces and nephews all the more. Eventually they pulled up to the station in Central and disembarked, Havoc taking the opportunity to do a full body stretch as they stood in the station.

“Do you need a ride back home?” Mustang asked him, and Havoc shook his head.

“Nah. It’ll do me good to walk. It’s not that late and it’s not that far.” He said. He nodded at Hawkeye. “If you’re going to give anyone a ride, let it be Hawkeye. She’s still got those chemicals in her bag, and I don’t want them to spill.”

Hawkeye shot him an unamused look. “They’re fine, and how did you know they’re in there anyway?”

Havoc shrugged. “Caught a glimpse when you were putting things away. Spent the rest of the train ride scared to death we were going to blow up.”

“Sure you did,” Mustang shot back. “That’s why you slept so well.”

Havoc grinned. “Exactly.” He gave them a jaunty wave and turned to head off. “See you both tomorrow.”

“Be safe!” Hawkeye called after him.

“You take all the fun out of life when you say that, Riza!” he called back.

Still, he couldn’t help but glance back at them as he walked away. They were standing next to each other, completely at ease once again. Mustang had been right about taking the good out of a place and leaving the bad behind. He just hoped that Hawkeye could do that too.

Although, perhaps that rabbit he happened to glimpse in her bag earlier would help her with that.


	5. Epilogue

**Author:** RealityBreakGirl/aquietlearningcorner/scentedbygunpowder  
 **Word Count:** 1,049  
 **Prompt:** FMA Big Bang 2020  
 **Characters:** Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang, Jean Havoc  
 **Pairing:** Royai  
 **Genre:** Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family  
 **Chapter:** Epilogue of 5

* * *

**Epilogue**

“It’s good to be home, isn’t it?”

Hawkeye had to smile at Mustang’s words, even as she removed her keys from the lock. This was, technically, her apartment, but just the idea that he would consider it home as well gave her a warm feeling inside.

“It is,” she said, sitting the bag she was carrying on the table. Mustang carried her luggage for her, and around her feet Hayate pranced, demanding her attention. “Thank you for going with me to get Hayate,” she said.

“It was no problem,” Mustang said with a shrug. “I wanted to get the pulse of the city back anyway.”

“Does it ever leave you?” she teased as she bent to pick up Hayate.

Mustang grinned at her. “No.”

Hawkeye laughed, but then turned her attention to the dog in her arms. “Now how am I supposed to get everything unpacked when you insist on being in my arms?” she asked him. Hayate merely panted at her, stretching up to lick her nose, his tail wagging.

“I can do it,” Mustang said, already sliding past her to make his way to her bedroom, her carpetbag in his hand. “I know where your things go anyway.”

“Thank you,” Hawkeye responded, already heading over to her couch with Hayate. “I appreciate it. I’d like to spend some time with my puppy. I’ve missed him.”

“Can he still be called a puppy?” Mustang’s voice called out from her bedroom.

“He’ll always be my puppy,” she retorted.

Hawkeye heard him laugh, and then heard the sound of drawers opening and closing as he put her things away. Hawkeye baby talked Hayate and gave him scratches in all of his favorite places while Hayate, for his part, was quite happy. She took in a breath and just relaxed, hands lovingly petting her dog, and ears listening to the sounds of Mustang putting her dirty clothes in the hamper, sitting her boots by her bed, and putting her extra ammo away.

There was a pause, though, and after a moment Mustang’s footsteps came back down the hall. He emerged, looking at her with a bit of concern and curiosity. “Riza?” he asked, the bag in one hand, and something else in the other. “Why did you bring this back?” In his hand was the worn yellow rabbit, and he seemed rather surprised about it. “I doubt it was as padding for the chemicals, or a chew toy for Hayate.

“Oh,” she said, looking at the toy with a soft smile. “I don’t know. It was an impulse. It felt right. He’s helped me through a lot, you know? I thought he deserved to be a part of my life now.”

Mustang kept the rabbit in his hand, but sat the bag down, the bottles in it softly clinking. He sat beside her on her couch, angled to where he could see her clearly. “You had him on the roof, didn’t you?” he asked.

Hawkeye returned his gaze and nodded. “Yes. It was habit, and I grabbed him, took him with me. Honestly, even after all these years, he was still comforting.”

Mustang’s eyes moved to focus on the rabbit, his brows drawn together and fingers lightly stroking it. “Riza… I… I’m sorry. I didn’t handle all of this well, and you suffered for it. I shouldn’t have sprung the idea on you in the office. I should have waited and talked things through with you first.”

Hawkeye shook her head, her hands slowing on scratching Hayate as she focused in on Mustang. “No. I should have trusted you. I know you’re not like that. I know that you weren’t looking to gain power just to have power. I should have looked beyond what I felt.”

“But in a way I was,” he said, head snapping back up to her. “I wanted something that gave me an edge over our enemies. I wanted more power, and I wanted to be able to use it against those that were a threat. Is that really any better than I was years ago?”

Hawkeye considered his words for a moment. “You wanted that power to do good. Just like when I gave it to you all those years ago,” she said, seeing the guilt creeping up on him. “But I will admit, it didn’t settle right with me. I didn’t think it was the right thing to do. I wasn’t sure what I would do if we found anything, but I wasn’t comfortable with the idea of you using it.”

Mustang let out a breath and his eyes turned down to that stuffed rabbit again. “I’m sorry, Riza.” He said. “I’m sorry. We should have talked it over.”

“I’m sorry too,” she said, and he looked up at her in surprise. “I let my anger, hurt and fear get in the way of us talking.” She was gently combing her fingers through Hayate’s fur at the moment, needing to do something with them. “I felt like I was being used again, and instead of talking about it that night, I froze you out instead. I was afraid of what you’d become if you did find something, and so I cloaked it all behind anger and didn’t talk to you. If I had, then perhaps this trip would have been easier.”

Mustang shook his head. “Seems we both have things we need to work on,” he said. He reached forward, carefully putting the bunny on her coffee table, then reached an arm around her to pull her to his side. “Next time, I’ll try to consult you before I make decisions.”

She leaned into him, Hayate wiggling around to make himself comfortable on both of their laps. “And I’ll try to be open to talking it through.”

He smiled at her then, the smile that was just for her, full of love, warmth, and most of all, genuine. He kissed her forehead, and she felt her heart swell with love for this man.

“I promise, Riza. Until my dying breath, I’ll walk with you through whatever life brings.”

She closed her eyes, relishing this moment. “I know,” she said. “I know.”

And settled there, on her couch, with her dog in her lap, and the man she loved holding her, Riza Hawkeye felt at peace.


End file.
